


The Loser Table

by armlessphelan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bilingual, Bilingual Character(s), Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, F/M, Gen, Interracial Relationship, M/M, POV Character of Color, Queer Themes, young adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armlessphelan/pseuds/armlessphelan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mateo never really wanted to be close to anybody. His friendship with Yolanda and Jordan barely qualified as such, and he had given up dating after things went South in a previous relationship. Then Connor came and the things he thought he had dealt with bubbled back up to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of four chapters I'll be uploading for this story. My hope is to eventually make it into a proper book and self-publish it. This is here just so folks can preview the characters and get an idea of whether or not they wanna read the final product. Also, I completely rewrote the first chapter because the story got a refocusing. Let me know if you like the new version.

“Hey, chico! You can sit over here!” I bellow to the new kid. The poor guy looks lost as he surveys the battlefield that is the Monroe High cafeteria. I remember that feeling. If only someone had taken pity on me and intervened: soy casi un santo.

“Thanks,” he says as he sits next to Yolanda, who is too busy staring at her tablet to pay attention to our latest adiciòn. “I'm new, so I didn't know... well, you know.”

Nodding, I tell him that I do know. “It's fine. I'm Mateo, that's Yolanda. The other chico blanco over here is Jordan. He always does his homework now: this is his only study hall.”

Jordan offers a wave, then returns to his math homework. Yolanda continues reading whatever manga she downloaded this week. It's always up to me to be the social butterfly. That might be why we have no friends.

“I'm Connor,” he says, holding out a hand for me to shake. His grip is really loose and his hands are super soft. I knew it.

“So, Connor, why the hell would you move to Monroe, New Mexico? There's nothing interesting about this entire state unless you believe in aliens. And I don't mean ones like Mateo.” Jordan snorts and I reach across the table to smack him.

However, the new kid looks up at me in awe. “You're not legal?”

“I'm legal. I was born in the US. Just ignore Jordan. El es un cabron.” I smile at Connor and he looks over to Yolanda. That's... I'm not sure how to take that.

“How old are you guys? I didn't see any of you in my homeroom.”

“Sixteen. I'm a Junior,” I tell the kid. “Yolanda is eighteen and a Senior. And very, very rude. She never talks to anyone unless you wanna talk about anime.”

“I've seen Dragonball Z Kai. Does that count?”

Yolanda snorts. “It does. But I watched the original version with all the filler. I don't know if I could handle seeing it all butchered.”

“Anyway... I'm sixteen and a Sophomore. And no, I wasn't held back. I was born in that weird grey summertime area and my parents wanted be to not be the youngest person in my class.” Jordan picks up and drops the scrambled eggs he got from his lunch and watches them bounces across the table. This is why I pack my lunch. Yolanda only does it because she thinks everything should be eaten from a bento box.

Then Jordan and I look at Connor as it's his turn. Yolanda is back to reading whatever is on her tablet.

“Um. Wow. I feel young. I'm fourteen.”

I practically pull the kid to my chest and muss his hair. “A Freshman?! Why, you're just un bebe! I remember being a freshman and moving here to live with mi tia. It seems so long ago.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Connor pushes me away and is patting his hair back down, but he's definitely smiling. And he's cute.

Then Jordan has to speak. I hate it when Jordan speaks because he's un pendejo. “I remember that, too. My sister asked you out and you told her you were gay. My, how time flies.”

See? Pendejo.

“I'm not gay,” I tell the kid who is kind of looking at me in awe.

“He's bisexual.” Well, look at Yolanda suddenly investing herself in the conversation. She's positively beaming but her tablet is still in her hands on the off chance she gets bored again.

I hate slash fangirls almost as much as I hate Jordan's mouth. How did I get stuck with these two idiots again?

“Oh, that's cool. I get it. I'm gay, too. Damn, that feels good.”

Jordan pops up with the question before anyone else can. “What feels good?”

Connor kind of stares at him for a few seconds, as if wondering if someone can actually be that stupid. Trust me, if anyone can be that stupid it's Jordan. I knew what Connor meant immediately.”

“Is this your low key coming out of the closet moment?” I chuckle a bit as I debate on just what to throw at Jordan.

“Nah, this is the 'I hate coming out to every new person I meet' moment. I don't know if you know it. I've never met a bisexual guy before, just bisexual girls who date men exclusively. Which is a weird thing to bring up so forget that. Okay?”

Okay, the kid is definitely cute. A little on the young side for me, but cute. I love it when they stick their feet in their mouths. But I'm retired from the dating scene. He'll just have to be a cute friend if we even become friends.

“It's fine. I know it. When I moved to Monroe, I was still figuring things out. I thought I might be gay, but I nope. I'm bi.”

“And yet he's never hit on either one of us,” Jordan adds.

“That's because Yolanda is scary and only wants to date Asian men. Also, you're ugly as fuck.”

“Bitch.”

So, I decide on my plastic spoon and chuck it at his forehead. Then I pick up my fork and dig into my cup of applesauce.

“Tu mama es una puta y tu eres un cabron,” I retort after I swallow.

“I hate when you speak Spanish. You know I'm English-only.”

“And barely that,” I snort. Sometimes I feel like I should feel bad for making fun of Jordan so much, but then I remember he's a dumb asshole and the feeling passes.

Then I remember that Connor exists. “Oh, right. If you decide to stick around here, you're gonna need to develop thick skin. We're kind of brutal with each other.”

“Why wouldn't I stay? You guys are funny and I'd get to hang with upperclassmen.” This poor, sweet, naive child. He really hasn't figured it out.

“Fat black girl with an anime obsession and no social skills; poor white trash guy with no social skills; brown bisexual guy with issues and mediocre social skills on the best of days: kiddo, we're the loser table.”

“Why do you get mediocre social skills while the rest of us have none?” Jordan asks in faux-outrage. Yolanda, meanwhile, has checked out of the conversation and is back to reading her manga.

“Because I work en mi tia's tienda. I have to fake it to keep the customers returning. You flip burgers in the back at McDonald's because your face is too scary for the register.”

“I like you guys. I'm used to being the odd man out, so I'll probably stay for awhile. Consider yourselves my charity case.” Connor reminds us again that he's here, and I think he just might fit in.

TLT

When I walk into the store, mi tia greets me with the customary kiss on the cheek before fussing over my rumpled jacket. She reminds me for the hundredth time that she owns an iron and that I should use it.

"You'll never get a conyuge if you don't keep yourself looking nice," she chides as I drop the backpack from my shoulder to my elbow.

"Tia, I'm sixteen. I'm not even looking! Can you do inventory tonight? I have a lot of homework, so I need to be at the register." Usually, I can stock and do inventory until our little mercado closes because I power through my homework from the morning classes during lunch at school and do the afternoon stuff at night while mi tia to goes through the books and whatever else it is she does with the money at night, but the new kid threw off my routine. I suppose it was my own fault, though. Soy demasiado agradable.

"Si, fine." She waves me off and walks to the back of the store while I sit on the stool behind the counter and pull out my math book. I figure I'll at least be able to get this stuff between customers. It's not as involved as my English homework, which is gonna keep me up all night.

Of course, it doesn't work out that way because the Pythagorean Theorum is the work of El Diablo and mi tia still yells for me every few minutes to grab or count something she can't reach. La maldicion de ser alto. It's not my fault she hasn't replaced the step stool after I accidentally left it in front of the store overnight and someone stole it...

Okay, so it is my fault, but it's been tres semanas. Surely there is a statute of limitations on this stuff.

"Hola," I say when I hear the bell above the door jingle. It's totally old school, but we can't exactly afford theft detectors to let us know when someone is trying to leave without paying.

"Mateo? Hi!" The voice makes me look up and I see it's Connor. Why the hell is he in my store? The only gringos we get are the hipsters who wanna feel multicultural. Most of them are nice, but I hate the ones who act like they're doing me a favour shopping here.

"Connor," I nod as I set my pencil down. "Looking for anything in particular?"

He shakes his heads and offers a small smile that hides his teeth. "Nah, I just remembered you talking about this place and my aunt sent me out to get groceries for tonight. Do you sell hamburger?"

"Just the vegetarian kind sin carne. It's in the freezers on the wall." We used to not carry it, but the hipsters complained. Now we sell just enough to make a profit. It's not an obscene profit, but it's just enough.

"Ah. What does 'carne' mean?" Connor asks, catching me offguard. Nobody has ever really asked me to translate anything before. I've gotten requests to speak only English, at which point yo hablo Espanol solamente, but most of the time, folks just roll with the bilingual lingo.

"Meat. 'Sin' means it has no meat. It's kind of a specialized product. If you want fresh ground beef, you'll have to hit up one of the supermarkets. Perdon."

Connor just continues to smile at me and I don't know why.

"Anything else?" I ask the kid, my Math homework lying half-finished before me. "I don't mean to be maleducado, but I don't have a lot of time for conversation."

Nodding, Connor keeps smiling. "You also said you don't work Sundays. Are you busy this one? I need someone to show me around town."

"You can't get someone from your class, your age, to do it?"

"Yo quero como un compromiso." He stutters out, still smiling but looking apprehensive.

"You can speak Spanish?" I ask, not answering his question because he catches me off guard.

Connor laughs and shakes his head. "No, I just have Google translate. Did I say it right?"

"Close enough," I assure him.

"And?"

I lick my lips and ponder on his request half a second before grinning. It's a bad idea, but... "Si. I would like that."

"Are you on Facebook? We can figure out later what we're doing."

"Nope. I'm more of a Twitter kinda guy. Just text me," I say as I rip a small piece off my scrap paper and write my number on it for him.

"Hola!" Mi tia calls from the back of the store. Before I have time to rush Connor to the safety al aire libre, she's made her way to us. She sees Connor's blanco self, then switched to English to introduces herself. "Hello, I'm Antonia Villegas. Welcome to my store. Can I help you with anything?"

"Huyes," I warn Connor, who just stares at me. Oh, right, Ingles. Mi tia gives me a face that makes me shrink in fear. I really, really do not want to deal with this right now.

"Behave," mi tia chastises as she returns her attention to Connor. "What are you looking for? Anything in particular?"

"Um, I'm not really here to shop," Connor confesses as he shoots me a grin. Mi tia follows his eyeline and a smile starts to creep on her face.

I slam my Math book shut before anything else can happen. Esta es la última cosa que necesito. While the the others are caught off guard by the loud sound, I slip around the counter and open the door to let Connor out.

"Call me." I repeat as I look at Connor and jerk my head so that he gets that I want him to leave.

"Um, okay. Is tonight fine?" He looks to mi tia, who is sporting an amused expression. Pendeja. At least she stopped talking.

"Si. Perfect. I'll talk to you tonight. Adios."

"Adios," he replies with a small wave and a confused tone. He then turns to mi tia and offers a small bow for some reason. I have no idea what reason that could be.

"Are you dating that gringo?" Mi tia is beaming, but she at least had the decency to wait until the door was shut and Connor had walked away. Rolling my eyes, I return to my seat behind the counter. There are reasons I don't date, and mi tia is totally one. "At least you're finally moving on from that chica Maria."

Another reason is Maria. It's been, what, dos años? Two years since all that stuff went down; two years of living with mi tia and trying to forget how much of a cabrón I was. That really should have been handled better.

"We aren't dating," I correct mi tia, her smile faltering. "He's new to town and I'm showing him around. And because I know you'll be annoying either way... Si, it is a date. My first with un chico, so I'm nervous enough without you making it worse."

"I remember my first date with un chico. You were so small and..."

Glowering, I pick up my pencil. "And mi madre had just disowned you. They don't know that tu eres una chica now, you know. I doubt they even know I'm bisexual. Mi hermana doesn't even talk to me. None of them do."

"Mateo, be happy. You have to let it, and them, go. They made their decision años ago." Mi tia follows me behind the counter and holds me in her arms from behind. She rests her chin on the top my head. "Now tell me more about this chico."

Despite my best efforts, I find myself smiling.

TLT

When you're an adult, dos años no es mas. Or so I'd imagine from the way they act. Being a teenager, though? It's a big deal. Why the hell did I agree to a date with a Freshman? One I don't even know at that. It's also my first date since Maria...

I came to live con mi tia por una fresh start. I cut out all my old friends the same way my family cut me out. And what did I do with said fresh start? Soy escondió.

And yet, here I am, sitting across the table from a cute chico blanco trying to think of something to say. When we were sitting together at lunch with the others, I never thought about the age difference or my being moreno or the fact that this is my first date since Maria. Maldita Maria.

"This es muy awkward," Connor says as he looks over the menu. We aren't any place fancy, just a pizza and sub joint. He let me pick it out because I've lived here longer than a week. I picked it out because there would be a lot of people.

"Esto es muy difícil," I correct absentmindedly. It's not that I mind him trying to speak Spanish, it just bugs me that he isn't doing it correctly.

"Sorry."

"De nada," I tell him while ignoring the old blanco couple across the aisle muttering to each other and trying not to look at us. "That means isn't a big deal. So, are you actually studying Spanish or trying to impress me?"

"More of the second one. I wouldn't mind learning, but I couldn't get a foreign language at my last school, and I'd start an entire semester behind everyone else here. So I'm waiting until next year to start."

"Ah." I run out of things to say until the waitress comes over to get our order. We split a pizza, half pepperoni for me and half pineapple for him, and I get a small sub on the side. I rationalize to myself that I'm growing and that Connor is too short to need as much food as I do. However, I know it's mostly because I like to eat.

"What do you do for fun?" Connor asks in an attempt to make conversation. "Do you like reading or hanging out with Jordan and Yolanda?"

"We don't hang out. Jordan works a lot like me, and Yolanda doesn't care for people who aren't animated. She's only in art club because it'll look good when she starts applying to colleges."

I am not looking forward to that myself. At least I have another year.

"So you're just friends at school?"

When he says it out loud, I really do realize that soy no tengo amigos. We only sit together at lunch because nobody else will sit with us.

"We just lead separate lives," I say evasively. “The older you get, the busier you get.”

Nodding, Connor agrees. “I know how it is to not have friends. You do not know how hard it is to be an effeminate kid on a military base. Or a Jewish one. The army is very, very Christian. And I'm not.”

“I'm a non-practising Catholic. Totally don't hate the Jews.” I give Connor a thumbs up and he smiles. “But now that you mention being Jewish, your last name isn't very Jewish. Ironic, but not Jewish.”

“I'm Jewish through my mom. And how is 'Richards' ironic?”

I make a lewd grin. “Let's just say I could make a dick joke or two.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Villegas.” Connor offers me a military-style salute and I burst out laughing. Then I stop. He shouldn't know that.

“How do you know my last name? I never told you.”

“It was your aunt's. She said it when I met her, so I made an educated guess. Was I wrong?”

“No. Usted tenía razón. I just...” Why am I getting so weird? Villegas has been my last name since I was his age. A lot of people, teachers mostly, call me that. Just because mis padres disowned me and I moved in with mi tia... I should be over this already. Qué demonios es lo que me pasa?

“I'm sorry.” Connor gets quiet and starts drinking his soda while I try and fail to find something worth saying.

This is why I don't date. Everything with Maria has fucked me up so bad. Why did I even agree to this? Y aquí estoy yo, siendo una perra a este chico. And I sorta like Connor, too. He's cute. He's nice. He's a little on the swishy side. But he deserves better than mi culo roto.

“I'm the one who's sorry.” I stand up and pull a twenty out of my pocket and throw it on the table. I don't know what I'm doing, but I do know that I need to leave. “That should cover my food. Just take it home and give it to your parents.”

“But...” Connor starts to say something but I step back, then turn and practically bolt out the door. I keep running until I'm a block away.

My heart is racing and I can't breathe; thoughts of Maria fill my mind. I can still hear her crying. And the blood. Había sangre por todas partes. It's been awhile since I've had a panic attack, but when I realize I'm having one it gets even worse.

"Mateo!"

No. He did not follow me. Oh, dios mio, he followed me.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

I'm too busy trying to remember how to breathe to answer him.

“Mateo?”

Still unable to breathe here! He puts his hand on my shoulder, but I stumble away and slam into a nearby wall. He pulls out his phone and I just know he's calling 911 but I can't stop him.

“Yes, hello? I think I need an ambulance.”

And that's when I start crying.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wait. You really went on a date with a freshman and had a panic attack over it? You are actually the worst.” Why did I think talking to Jordan would help things? Talking to Jordan is less productive than swan diving into a vat of acid.

So, yeah, mi fecha era un desastre trágico. I managed to get Connor to cancel the ambulance, though I'm still shaky as to how. Mi tia can't afford to pay for an ambulance, and I really don't want her to know about the panic attacks. I've been able to deal with them by myself before. That one just took a little longer because it'd been so long.

“I'm the worst? At least I had a date with someone. You just have your mano izquierda when you wanna change things up.”

“But my left hand never gave me a panic attack,” he counters. I really do want to hit him, but it would require too much effort. At least I wan smart enough to leave out the crying. Pendejo.

“Hey.” Yolanda joins us mid-conversation, her tablet absent and drawing pad in hand instead.

“Hi.” I wave to her, but she just opens her drawing pad. One would be offended but Yolanda is Yolanda.

Then Jordan opens his stupid boca. “Our Matty finally went on a date. And blew it.”

“Okay.” She doesn't care. Gracias, dios mio!

“It was with Connor, the stray he adopted.” I reach over and try to stab him, but he jerks away and I hit the table instead. And now my plastic fork only has two tines. Odio a la prohibición de los utensilios de metal.

And, of course, this gets Yolanda's attention. “Oooh? What happened? Is he a bad kisser? Are you a bad kisser? It's probably you.”

“Nobody kissed anybody. Shut up. I'm done talking about it. And if either one of you mentions it to Connor, voy a matarte.”

“No hablo Español.” I really do hate Jordan. “Oh, hiiiii.”

I don't even turn around. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Connor sits next to me. The poor kid tried calling me all night, and I avoided him. Can anyone blame me? Mental breakdowns in the middle of a date aren't exactly fun. Soy basura.

Everything gets quiet and Connor definitely notices. Jordan and Yolanda are both watching him like a hawk, which makes the poor guy recoil and shrink.

“What?” he finally squeaks out, his voice cracking. Dios, I do not miss that part of puberty.

Jordan grins. Lo odio.

“I made the mistake of telling them about yesterday. Sorry. They're gonna be pendejos about it.”

He offers me a small smile before looking at the others. “I'm sorry you guys had to hear all the details. I told him to be gentle, but he was like a man possessed. I'll never be innocent again.”

“Puta!” I laugh while smacking his arm with the back of my hand. Okay, so yeah, he's being cool about it. Eso es bueno. And let's just ignore that Yolanda is grinning like an idiot. She had the same dame mirar en su cara when we first met and she thought I was gay. Then she learned I'm bi and her face scrunched up because girls are gross or something. I don't know. Like I've said, slash fangirls are weird.

“It wasn't anything serious, guys. I asked him to show me around town. It was totally casual until he went all asthmatic or whatever.”

“Why didn't you ask one of us, if it wasn't a date?” Yolanda doesn't sound offended, and her eyes keep darting between the two of us. If I find out she's writing fanfiction...

“Because you're scary and Jordan is ugly as fuck, apparently.”

I burst out laughing, drawing the attention of some of the surrounding tables, but as I calm it down the other students go back to whatever inanity they were discussing amongst themselves. As a general rule, I don't talk to my classmates unless I have to. That rule might have contributed to my freakout the other day.

As we move on with the chitchat, everyone slowly forgets what I had told them at the beginning of the period. When the bell ending lunch finally goes off, Yolanda packs up her stuff and Jordan walks off to return his tray. I stand and start to gather my things, too, but Connor reaches out and grabs my wrist.

He just sits there for a few seconds before looking up into my eyes. “Hey, I'm not mad at you for telling them or anything, but... What happened wasn't okay. You're not okay. And we can't do it now, but we do need to talk about it.”

TLT

"Mijo, are you okay? You were shaken up last night, and you wouldn't talk to me." Mi tia only calls me "mijo" when she's worried. It isn't like she doesn't have a reason to worry: she has multiple reasons. When I turn 18, my records will be sealed, but everything I did will still have been done.

"No estoy caer en edad hábitos," I assure her with a sigh as I sling my backpack behind the counter. I don't even ask to run the register. I want the manual labour to take my mind off yesterday. Connor wasn't as fine with it as I first thought. He told me as much. Yolanda and Jordan think it's funny, and I probably would too if it had happened to someone else, but it didn't. I scared him and I scared myself.

I pull out my phone as I walk back to the stockroom. My thumb hovers the Facebook icon as I debate opening the app. I didn't lie when I said I don't use Facebook. I've never posted an updated since I opened my current account. It's just that, sometimes, I want to check on her. I want to make sure her life wasn't ruined beyond repair. Lo hago todos los hacerme sentir mejor.

My phone is heavy in my hand, so I slip it back into my back pocket. Maybe some other time. And maybe if I were a real man, I'd apologize to her. Nunca lo hice. Ellos nunca me dejaron. If I were her, I don't think I could handle seeing me, either.

I start filling our lone shopping cart with things that need to go on the shelf. It's easier than trying to haul each item out one by one. Mi tia, she'd made a list of stuff while I was at school. She always does. Que hacer esto seis días a la semana. It's a routine that works. Usually. No es de trabajo hoy. All I can think about is how I scared Connor and how I hurt Maria.

When I have half the cart full, I hang the clipboard back on the wall, about a third of the list crossed off. Nobody has come into la tienda. I can hear the bell from the back and it never went off.

"Tia? Did you do the order?" I call out as I wheel the cart to the front of the store. I find it's easier to work front to back. "No tengamos jabón."

"Si, Mateo. I already ordered the soap. Should be here Saturday."

Right. Sábado. Connor wanted to talk to me Saturday. I told him I would try, but...

"Can I have Saturday night off? Mi amigo Connor wants to know if I can hang out at his house. I'm kinda his only friend in town. Él quiere que cumplir con su familia," I lie. I hate lying to her, but she's a sucker for family stuff since we really don't have one anymore. "I can do whatever you need por la mañana."

"Fine," she sighs, maybe realizing how she's taken advantage of me the last dos años. Not that I haven't done the same. I used her and this store to avoid certain things. Para evitar ciertas personas.

"Gracias," I say as I hug mi tia. And I feel terrible. Antiguo los hábitos de morir duro.

TLT

Saturday rolls around y todo lo que quiero hacer es vomito. I still haven't decided if I'm going to lie, tell the truth, or just blow Connor off. How do you solve a problem like Maria? As if she were an obstacle and not a person...

I meet Connor outside la tienda and we start walking. I don't know where we're going. He's leading and I know he doesn't know his way around town. Dios mio.

"Do you live there?" Connor asks since neither one of us really knows what to say. I assume he means the store and answer as such.

"Si. Mi tia y yo. There's a small apartment above la tienda. There really isn't room for two bedrooms, so I sleep on a futon in what passes for a living room." I wonder if I'll be able to keep this honest streak up. "We can't really afford to move out. We're on a rent-to-own plan with the building. Five more years, maybe, but right now it's all we have."

"Oh." Connor nods, looking more at the landscape than at me. "Tia means 'aunt', right? I looked a few things up."

I nod in the affirmative. Yolanda and Jordan never really ask me about my home life. I always assume they either don't care or they know I'll just tell them anything interesting without provocation. Though, after the whole thing on Monday, I may be revising that.

"I live with my aunt and uncle, too. Just until I graduate. My parents figured out that all the moving around stunted me socially. I don't begrudge them promotions and the like, but sometimes I'd only live with one of them for months on end and they're actually still married! I'm lucky they're Air Force, though. They never spent years away like parents in the other military branches." He sighs and looks upward. I follow him and see just a few stray whisps of white dotting the blue canvas.

"I live con mi tia because I have nowhere else to go." Okay, so I'm choosing honesty. This is unexpected. I was so certain I would lie. There was a whole story made up and everything. I'd filled any possible gap over the last week. "Mis padres, my parents, they don't want me anymore. Villegas isn't even my real surname. And please don't tell anyone that. When I turn 18, I'm getting it changed, but right now I'm using it illegally and I don't want mi tia getting into trouble."

"What was your name? Is Mateo real, too?" He's not looking at me. I don't know if it's good or bad.

Again, I nod. "I've always been Mateo, though I used to go by Matt. Hell, until I moved here, no hablo Español en público. Mis padres were all about assimilating. Spanish was only something we spoke at home, and never in front of visitors. I only use it so much now as a way to rebel. And I doubt you've noticed, but mi Español isn't exactly perfect and if I talk a lot, I sometimes forget to use it.

"But I just... I needed to stop being Matt. Matt used to do some terrible things. When I was Matt, I hurt someone I really cared about, and it was serious. I'm not ready to tell you that now. And I'm not telling you my old name or where I used to live because I just don't know you that well. Maybe someday I can, but the other day? When I had my freakout, you weren't even a factor. It was me. I haven't gone out socially as Mateo. Not even as a friend.

" That just proved I wasn't ready. Sorry."

Connor takes it all in stride. "That's... It's a lot. I can't even pretend like I understand. There's no way I can. My parents had me pegged as gay when I was a kid, so I never really came out to them. I'd talk about cute boys and they'd just nod and smile. When I had my bar mitzvah, they even let me invite the guy I was crushing on. So I can't understand being disowned or downplaying my being Jewish to make other people feel less uncomfortable."

Again, I wonder if my family even knows I'm bi. Mi tia, they cut her out when they thought she was gay. They'd never speak to her now. I only found her because I kept a postcard she had sent me for my thirteenth birthday. Mi madre never saw the card. Mi padre just saw my name on it and handed it to me without comment. She still hadn't changed her name, not then, but mi tia was already living in Monroe and running la tienda. So when I left... I got very, very lucky.

"We can still be friends," Connor continues after I say nothing. "I mean, the other kids in my grade aren't that cool with the gay, and you're the only other person I've met that isn't in the closet. And you were nice to me that first day."

So he's dumping me? I can't exactly say I'm surprised. Nuestra única fecha fue un desastre.

"Thanks," I tell him even though I'm a little upset by his decision. It makes sense, though. I'm not ready. I don't even have any friends, not really. Just people who tolerate me for 40 minutes a day.

TLT

"Hola, Mijo!" Mi tia greets me when I come into the shop a few hours later. I didn't spend all that time with Connor. Most of it I spent alone. I needed time to process. There are things I need to do.

"Hola," I return as I hug her. "Tia, I know it's been awhile, and we can't really afford it, but I think I need un terapueta. I have no friends. No familia. I have you, and I love you, but no es suficiente."

She doesn't release me. I couldn't say it to her out loud: I had to whisper it in her ear as though I were ashamed. And I am ashamed. Not because I need help, but because I waited so long to get it.

"Por que?" She lets me go, but quickly grabs onto my my hand. It's a good thing la tienda is closed, because there is no way we'd be able to get any work done. "No. I know why. I'll see what I can do, Mijo. It may be a little while, though."

"Te amo," I tell her as I place un beso on her temple. Then I tell her to have a good night because I'm tired. What I don't tell her is that I finally used my secret Facebook account, not that she or anyone else even knows it exists.

When I get to our apartment, leaving mi tia to clean and finish closing la tienda by herself, I curl up on my futon and put in my headphones. I don't listen to music with lyrics. It's nothing too deep, I just want to have the ability to enjoy something that isn't tied to my English or Spanish life.

A quién estoy engañando?

I pull out my phone and open the Facebook app. I have two notifications: the first is that Connor accepted my friend request. He's the only person who knows that Mateo Villegas isn't real. I know I shouldn't have told him, but I needed to tell someone. And I have no history with him, so I can't make up reasons to distrust him like I have for everyone else. And despite my panic attack, he's been a good friend.

The other notification, though... I don't know how she found me. I didn't even know she was looking, but I don't even have a picture up and mi hermana found me.


	3. Chapter 3

Our lunch table is pretty quiet. Even with Connor still sitting with us, nobody really says anything. Jordan has been out sick and I never really noticed how much of our day-to-day conversation was initiated by him. Espero que se recupere pronto. I really don't know how much longer I can take everyone just quietly sitting here. Quién sabía que iba a perder su estúpido culo?

Yolanda just does what she always does: read manga off her tablet and eat whatever Japanese recipe she found on the internet the day before. Sometimes I wish I could do that, just find a recipe and cook something new. Mi tía se quema el agua. But we really can't unless I wanna give up my meager paycheck. It's not like we can just go into the store and start cooking food. We're required by to law have our personal and professional finances separate. I think. I'll have to ask mi tia about that.

I have to ask her a lot of things.

"So, does anyone know what's wrong with Jordan?" I ask as I point to his empty seat with my fork. Yolanda ignores me and Connor shakes his head but doesn't say anything.

Connor doesn't say a lot to me lately. We agreed to be friends, but I don't think we know how to do that. I unloaded so much on him and I barely know him. It only makes sense that he might be miedo.

Since nobody wants to talk, I go back thinking. It's something I do a lot of these days. I do more thinking than anything else, truth be told. What I think about most is mi hermana's friend request on Facebook. Until the day I sent a friend request to Connor, I had a fake name on it. It was locked and I had no pics up. But the day I put my new name up, a name she didn't even know about, she finds me. And that scares me.

What if mis padres changed their mind? What if they want me now? I can't go back, but I'm not 18. And mi tia is technically harbouring a runaway, even if they threw me out. She could get into problemas legales. And there's the fraud... I'm enrolled here at school under a name that doesn't exist. I've never thought about how she did that. It never occurred to me to think about it.

Qué voy a hacer? The easiest, no, the safest thing to do is to ignore it. It's New Mexico. There are hundreds of moreno guys named Mateo here. She might just assume I'm someone different and move on. But I want to know so many other things.

"Want one?" Yolanda nudges me with her wrist, then tilts towards me the box of pocky she is holding. I blink, then nod. I fish one out. She doesn't offer one to Connor, who is looking at me out of the corner of his his eyes.

"You're not okay." He isn't asking. Then he sighs. "Do you need to talk?"

"I need a ride to Arizona," I blurt out. I don't even care that Yolanda is listening. "Mi tia tiene un coche, but if she knew... I don't even have my license anyway. It's dumb. I just... I don't think I ever told you guys that I have una hermana. Melliza. That means we're twins. She lives with mis padres."

"Mateo..." Connor is once again looking up at me and I find it unsettling. "Is your sister... Is she the one you told me about?"

I appreciate that he's trying to watch his words in front of Yolanda. I reach over and ruffle his hair. Then I stare at my hand as I'm pulling it away. Why did I do that? "No. That's someone else. I just, I hadn't thought about mi hermana in forever. I need to talk to her. Just her. But I have to do it there, where she lives. She can't come here. She can't know I live here."

"Why not?" Yolanda inquires. I steal a look at Connor, who has taken an interest in a scuff mark on the lunch table. I'm not sure if it's because of Yolanda's question or my actions.

"I just can't. Things are volatile." I sigh and try to figure out just why I'm talking. This is so unlike me. I'm the loud one of the group, but I never talk about me. Well, I never talk about Matt. What the hell is going on?

"I have a car." Yolanda shrugs. "Where does your sister live? I can probably figure out how to get there with the GPS I got for making the honour roll last year."

"Road trip? Yes!" Connor pumps a fist in the air as he yells. Then he realizes he has caught the attention of the kids at nearby tables and shrinks into his seat.

"No," I shake my head adamantly. "Not a road trip. I don't even know if I'm going. I'm just talking. And if I do go, I can't just take you. It's... Es personal. What would you even do?"

"Mateo, I'm not saying I'll be there when you talk to your sister. It'll just be nice to spend time with you. That's all."

And there it is, a sinking feeling in my stomach. It is the thing telling me that I've over shared with these guys. I should've just hired a taxi. I've saved some money from my paycheck for the day I can finally live on my own. My grades aren't good enough for college: in Junior High and my Freshman year, I skipped so many classes... I just got out of remedial Math. I'll never go to college, but I should be able to get a job and maybe move into a small place of my own. I hate that I'm such a drain on mi tia.

And here I am running from the truth again. Dios mio. Todavía quiero ser más de amistad con Connor. But I can't. Maybe when my life is together and I actually get to know him...

"I'll take care of the kid," Yolanda breaks me from my reverie. "While you're doing your thing, we can go be tourists. It's not like I planned on sitting in the car alone while you go be emo. Besides, if I ferry one minor across the state lines, I might as well do two."

TLT

I'm sitting in the back seat of Yolanda's Prius. Of course she has a car that costs more than the entire inventory of mi tia's tienda. Connor is only riding in the front passenger seat because she picked him up first. They're fighting over music. It's so mundane. He wants to listen to the radio, and she is loudly singing over his complaints. Of course, she's singing along with some anime theme song and mumbling every other word and messing up the ones she does know, but hey. I can't sing along with most Spanish singers and I know the language. There's just this thing where I think in English so I have to actually think about what I'm gonna say in Spanish and it slows me down.. Ser bilingüe es una mierda así.

But me? I'm rehearsing in my head what I'm going to say. Am I really gonna go to my... Am I going to her casa and knocking on the door? Am I gonna wait around and hope to catch her coming and going? What if mis padres see me? Or somebody else that knows me? Maria still lives in that town. I should have just called her.

Every so often, Connor will flip down his visor and act like he's checking his hair or whatever, but I know he's looking at me. Yolanda can tell, too. I see her smile each time he does it. Sometimes, I wonder how things would have gone if I hadn't ruined our first and only date. Would I have a boyfriend? Or would we have realized that a Jewish military brat and a Honduran orphan-by-circumstance have nothing in common? Why do I even care?

Connor and Yolanda stop bickering when the Pokemon theme song starts playing. Not one from the games, but from the old cartoon. The show from the 90s that mi hermana and I pirated and watched on her computer when nuestros padres thought we were doing our homework. I don't really watch TV anymore. I think I miss it. I miss a lot of things.

I start singing along, and I think I scare my travelling companions because up until now I've been all sulky. I'll probably resume brooding after the song ends, but for now I'm going to enjoy seeing my own smile in the rear view mirror. Me he ganado un poco de felicidad.

"Is your mood improving?" Yolanda asks, looking back and grinning at me. I deny the urge to tell her to watch the road. "I didn't expect you to spend a five hour car ride lying in the back staring at the ceiling of my car."

"You have magazine cutouts of anime characters taped to the roof of your car," I counter as I look back up at them. I had spent the first half hour trying to figure out if I knew any of them. I never really got into anime. Cartoons are for kids.

"Would you rather I have a plain ceiling? At least this way you get eye candy." She giggles and I almost want to say something because I've never heard Yolanda giggle before. She usually just grunts when Jordan and I get too loud for her to concentrate on whatever book she's reading.

"Why are you doing this?" I finally ask her?

"I think it's cool." Connor reaches up and traces one of the figures with his index finger. "Most folk ignore ceilings."

"Do people really say 'folk' in the Army? Cause..." Yolanda and Connor have both missed my point.

"Air Force," Connor corrects.

I shake my head. "No."

"Um, yes?" Connor turns to look at me, his face a portrait of bewilderment. "I would know which branch of the military my parents are in."

"No, I knew that. What I meant is... You guys took an entire day just to drive to Arizona with me just because I asked. Por que?"

"Because you asked," Yolanda answers, as if it were that simple. "We aren't besties or anything, but you're still my friend. And I had nothing better to do. The hundred bucks in gas money didn't hurt, either."

"What she said, minus the money part," Connor agrees. "You guys are still the only ones who are nice to me at school. The military is less homophobic than a small town high school. Who knew?"

"Just wait until they find our you're Jewish." I can't help but tease him. "They're very pro-Jesus in Monroe. Which is kinda the opposite of you."

"When I converted to Buddhism, my folks threw a fit. My dad wanted to burn all my manga," Yolanda reveals casually. And I had no idea.

"You're Buddhist? Since when? Chica..."

"I heard it was popular in Japan, so I checked it out. Someone comfused Buddhism with Shintoism, but I liled what I read of it. I'm a really bad Buddhist, though. I love physical possessions and don't really try to live so that I'll have good karma in the next life."

"You're weird," Connor tells Yolanda. Then he slaps his  
hand over his mouth and squeals. "Not in a bad way or anything! Being Buddhist isn't weird, I mean. It's just that I've never heard of someone changing religions because it was popular in another country."

"Okay?" Yolanda sounds unsure of just what he's saying and so am I.

While Connor stumbles over his own words, I lean back into my seat and try to remember just what I'm doing.

TLT

Yolanda and Connor drop me off a few blocks from mi casa vieja. They make me promise to call when I'm ready to leave or if things go bad. I lie and tell them I will. It's not that I won't call, it's that I was ready to go the moment we pull up to the curb.

I recognize the houses. Most of the cars in the driveway are the same as when I left. It's as though nothing changed when I left. One of my old neighbours, Señora Wilkins, waves at me while mowing her lawn. I was friends with her son in elementary school. She doesn't recognize me. It may be because I'm older. It may be because I'm sober.

Steeling myself and pushing away the bad thoughts, I start walking up the street. If my feet were any heavier, the sidewalk would crack. Can I just scream and run in the opposite direction?

Mi madre should be at Bible study y mi padre at one of his friend's house watching football, and not the crappy American version. I doubt their post-Mass routines have changed all that much. I hope they haven't. Mi hermana should be home alone. They always let us go home after Mass. They thought they could trust her with me.

As I stroll up to la puerta, mi corazon begins to beat so fast I can't hear myself breathe. I'm not even sure I am breathing. I lived here por catorce años. This didn't used to be una puerta, it was mi puerta: que era mi casa. It hurts, but I push the doorbell anyway. I pray for the first time in a long time.

"Just a minute!" she yells. It's her voice. I could never forget her voice. Mi hermana. Mi Sofia. After a few seconds, she opens the door. "We're not buying anything."

"Hola," I greet with a fake smile. She looks so different. Her hair is short, really short. Madre must've been mad when she did it because she always insisted Sofia keep it long. She said that only chicos y putas had short hair. Only without the saying it in Spanish. Sofia also isn't taller than me anymore. Just two years and I finally tower over her by an inch.

"Matty?" She sounds like she's gonna cry. How am I not crying? I haven't seen mi hermana in dos años and all I can say do is say hello?

"Sofia, hola. Soy madre y padre en la casa?" Why am I speaking Spanish? Sofia always hated Spanish. She said that we were in America so we should speak English and only English. I used to agree with her.

She shakes her head. "No, they aren't home. Why are you... When..." She stops speaking and throws her arms around me and starts crying. No puedo decir nada. My brain and mouth are no longer connected and I can't even hold her back. All I can do is stand here and try my hardest not to break down with her.

After a couple minutes, she pulls back and wipes her nose with her hands, then wipes her hands on her jeans. I always hated when she did that, but now it's comforting and familiar, albeit still disgusting.

"Do you want to come inside? Like I said, mom and dad aren't home. Are you home? Are you coming back?"

I shake my head in the negative to all three questions. Stepping back, I take her hand and lead her away from the doorway. She pulls free and closes the door; she doesn't lock it. I forgot that this neighbourhood is probably a safe one since I left. I could never do that with la tienda.

"Why are you here?" she asks since I didn't really answer her other questions.

"Te extrañé. Tú eres mi hermana, y yo te amo." I start walking and she follows me. It's lucky she was wearing zapatos. "Tenemos que hablar."

"If we're talking, Matt, we're doing it in English." She's still stubborn. She still calls me "Matt". All these years, y mi hermana es mi hermana.

"Fine," I sigh as I hang my head. "I just... I saw your friend request on Facebook. How did you even know to look for me? I just updated the page that day."

"Since you left... I type your name into that search bar everyday. Both your names. I've sent a friend request to every Matt, Matthew, and Mateo Villegas or Gonzales that didn't have a picture up. None of them were you until it was you, I guess." She sticks her hands into her back pocket and speeds up so that we're matched stride for stride. It's November and she isn't even wearing a coat. I start to take mine off and offer it to her. She declines. "It isn't that cold."

"How did you know to use the name Villegas? I didn't start using it until after I left. You couldn't have known it." I did come here to get answers, but I feel bad that I'm doing nothing but asking questions.

"When Uncle Robert moved, I heard he changed his name to Villegas. You're living with him, but I didn't know where exactly. Mom and Dad never told me. They just said I was an only child."

Una hija única? "But how do you know I was living con nuestra tia?"

"Matt, please, you know I hate Spanish. I hate that everyone thinks I'm an illegal Mexican who came here to steal a job or have a baby for the welfare or whatever it is Hispanic people are supposed to be doing."

I don't apologize to her. I won't apologize to her for speaking Spanish. When mis padres threw me out, I decided that I would be everything they said I couldn't. Part of that is being proud of my Latino heritage. But because she's mi hermana, I try to remember to be monolingual.

“Fine. English. Whatever. Her name is Antonia and she is our aunt now. So please stop with the 'uncle' stuff, okay?” I'm huffy and I know I sound like it, but this is the woman who took me in off the street when she could barely take care of herself. She had to stop saving up for her surgery so that she could afford to take care of me. “She's trying really hard and the transition hasn't been easy.”

“I have an aunt now? A tranny?”

“That's kind of an offensive word. She's transgender, not a tranny. Or do you like it when people call you a 'spic'?” I snap. Then I see her flinch and regret my harsh response, but I don't apologize.

“Aunt Antonia. Hmm. That's gonna take some getting used to,” Sofia says quietly, as if afraid I'll go off on her again. “I didn't know. All I knew was that you were living with hi... with her.”

I sigh and sling an arm around her shoulder. “It's just... I'm protective of her. She's all I had after you and Mom and Dad cut me out.”

Sofia stops in her tracks and it takes me a couples steps to realize it. I turn around and look at her. She's angry. Why is she getting mad? I was the one they all disowned!

“Matt, I never cut you out. Mom and Dad did. I was just a scared and confused 14-year-old, like you. All I knew was that you and Maria fucked up really bad and our parents had reached their limit. They shouldn't have thrown you out: you're my brother! I sent you a million texts and messages on Facebook, but you left your phone and closed your account without replying to me.

“I get why you did it, but I defended you. When dad hit you, Mom wasn't the one who threw herself between you guys. I was. So don't you dare say I cut you out.” She is on the verge of tears again, but they're angry tears. And I'd forgotten about mi padre hitting me. So much stuff happened esa noche.

So, I really am as terrible un hermano como yo era un hijo y novio. Is it sad that I'm not surprised by this? It almost makes me laugh.

“Sorry. I just thought... Never mind. El pasado es el pasado.” I smirk at the end when she rolls her eyes, but Sofia doesn't scold me. “Are they taking care of you?”

“Yes and no.” Sofia starts walking again, and she's moving so fast that I'm the one trying to keep up. “They buy me anything I want and pay all kinds of attention to me, but it feels so hollow. Some nights, I wake up and hear Mom crying or Dad yelling or the reverse and I know it's because of you. I... They don't regret throwing you out. I'm sorry about that, but I still think they love and miss you. It doesn't make sense to me, either.”

I don't want to think about that, so I throw out a question. “But how are you? I haven't seen you in two years!”

She's still moving fast, as though she's about to break out running. It makes me think she's still on the cross country team. “Matt, I'm moving through molasses. For weeks, everyone at school asked me where you and Maria were. When she finally came back to school, they all latched onto her and forgot about me. After a few months, things settled down and they all eventually moved on. But I didn't. You're my twin brother. A part of me was missing for two damn years.

“And you? Are you doing okay? Please tell me you're clean. You look clean.”

I smile and nod. “I don't go to meetings or anything, so I don't have one of those chips, but I've been clean since I reached Monroe and moved in with our aunt. She helped me through the withdrawal. It was awful, and I sometimes still have nightmares about it, but I use that memory to get through the cravings when they happen. I never said it before, but I'm sorry about all the shit I did to you when I was fucked up.”

“You're forgiven.” Sofia stops and takes my hand. “Matt, Maria... She got worse after you left. At first, anyway. Her parents didn't throw her out, but I heard things got bad. She overdosed or got a bad batch of crack or something. You were the druggie, not me, so I don't know how it works. After that, she finally got her shit together, but... We aren't friends anymore. I don't know how we could be after everything that happened, but she's changed. Just like you, but different. You don't see it because you aren't here, Matt.”

“She's broken?” I ask, receiving a nod in return. When she does that, I stop and crouch. I sit on the edge of someone's lawn and pluck a blade of grass. I do anything I can to not have to speak, because if I do I just know I'll start sobbing and never stop.

I was hoping I hadn't, and I guess I fooled myself, but Maria is broken and I did it. Yeah, sure, Sofia will say it was both of us and I couldn't have forced her, but it was my idea. I got her the pills. I'm the one who ruined Maria. So maybe I do deserve everything mis padres did to me.

“Matt, it's okay. You can't blame yourself. You were homeless and you cleaned yourself up and you look like you're doing great. What Maria did is on Maria.” Sofia slides her arms around me and helps me to my feet. Yo sabía que ella iba a decir eso.

Maria is... I didn't bring her up for a reason. I shut down or freak out whenever I hear or think about her. Sofia was just answering the questions she knew I wasn't asking.

“Don't you dare feel guilty. Everything you did with Maria, she agreed to do. And what she did after that is not your fault. Now say it.”

“But it is my fault. I'm the one who introduced her to drugs. I'm the one who got her pregnant.”

“And she is the one who took the drugs. She took the pills.”

“But I got her the damn pills!” I scream, grabbing mi cabeza y rocking.

TLT

I was quiet the entire ride home. It kinda put a damper on Yolanda and Connor's moods, and that made me feel even worse. Amo a mi hermana, but... We love each other. I guess that's something. There wasn't much of a silver lining to this trip.

I ask Connor to stay with me. Yolanda almost smirks, but catches herself. I just shake my head. It's not what she thinks. There is just so much I've unloaded on him already: he's the closest thing I have to a confidant. And one time, one last time, necesito su ayuda, then he's free to whatever the hell he wants. All I've done since I met him is make everything about me and my drama.

"Yeah? Sure. Sure. I can't stay too late, though. School tomorrow and all," he reminds me as he climbs out of the car. We bid Yolanda a good night and close the doors. I wait until she drives off and rounds the corner to say something.

"Why did you ask me out? That first day, before you knew how much of a mess I am, I mean. Was it just because I'm the closest thing there is to another gay guy in our school?" I realize I'm interrogating him and try to reign myself in. "Hay una razón para este. I just... I'm sorry that I keep dumping stuff on you and we barely know each other."

"It's because I thought you were fearless," he answers quietly, ignoring my pathetic apology. "You're a bisexual Mexican guy who speaks Spanish and to hell with everyone else. I was a little bit in awe."

"Mi familia estamos a Honduras," I correct him, trying to be gentle. "Not every brown person is from Mexico."

Connor nods, looking sheepish. It's cute and makes me wish I hadn't screwed things up with him. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Mostly." I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Todo el mundo piensa que yo soy de México. I'm used to it."

"Mateo, why did you want to talk to me?" He sits on the sidewalk in front of la tienda, so I join him. We watch los coches drive by for a couple minutes as I try to think of how best to answer him.

"You know I went to see mi hermana today. Of course you know... Anyway, she said some things that rattled me. You remember how I told you I once hurt someone close to me?"

"Yeah," he nods and his body stiffens just a bit. It breaks mi corazon. "You said you couldn't talk about it. You didn't know me well enough."

"Well, is it okay if I talk to you about it? I have nobody else. There is mi tia, but... Is it okay?" I can feel my throat getting scratchy and swallow the rest of the words I was gonna say.

Connor leans into me and puts a hand on my knee. It's warm. "Yeah, Mateo. Go ahead."

"It sounds so stupid. I was so young... When I was twelve, I started doing the junior high equivalent of dating. It was una niña who lived in my neighbourhood. Her name was Maria I had a crush on her. Huge. She actually was half-Mexican. Her mom immigrated here in the 90s antes de todo el mundo odiaba inmigrantes, then married Maria's dad who was black. That's not important, though. I'm rambling."

I stop for a moment to catch my breath. Connor withdraws his hand but doesn't say anything.

"Anyway," I continue when I collect myself. "Maria and I eventually started seeing each other and it was all innocent and the like until the summer before my freshman year. I stayed at un amigo's casa y su primo or something was visiting. The guy offered us both a bump of coke as if it were nothing. My friend turned him down right away, but I accepted because mis padres never had the drug talk with me. We never had the sex talk either. They were too busy trying to assimilate and live amongst los Blancos to prepare me for that stuff. No offence."

"None taken? I think." Connor gives a nervous chuckle. I return it.

"But yeah, that first high was great. It's always the best. And without trying to remember a bunch of stuff I'd rather forgot, I was a druggie at the age of 14. Coke, crack, pot... I even shot up heroin once. Mi tia had me get an HIV test when I told her that. I didn't know you could get it from sharing needles. Did you?

"Still, I was a mess and Maria followed me down the rabbit hole. Just like I never had the drug talk con mis padres, we never had the sex talk. Maria got pregnant. We didn't know what to do. Mi padres, they didn't know about the drugs until later. How they didn't, I don't know. I think mi hermana covered for me.

"But there was a lot of other shit. I was arrested for breaking into someone's car and to try to find things to sell at pawn shops. We pled that down to a misdemeanour. Yo vandalizado un autobús escolar. That one was Maria's idea, and we never got caught. There are a ton of things I got away with and don't remember because I was high as a kite. But we were both awful people. But like I said, Maria was pregnant."

Connor doesn't say anything when I stop to take un respiro. He's pulled his knees up to his chin and has his eyes closed. I ask him if I should continue and he licks his lips then nods.

"María no quiere tener el niño. I didn't want her to have the kid. She was looking up clinics that didn't require parental consent but this is the fucking South. I asked my dealer what I should do because I was 14 and stupid. Él me vendió unas pastillas. Said they'd take care of the problem: his girl used them and it was as simple as that.

"When I took them to Maria, she was ecstatic. I'll never forget her face because it was the last time I ever saw her smile. She took them all: todo un puñado. We didn't bother looking up what they were or dosages or anything. Like I said, we were stupid. And while it did end the pregnancy..."

I stop talking and try to collect myself. I told Connor I needed to get this out, and I do. It just takes everything I have to keep it together. This is my deepest, darkest secret and I'm sharing it with a kid I've known for three weeks. Qué diablos está mal conmigo?

"It almost killed her, Connor. It's why I live with my aunt now. Mis padres, when they found out about the abortion... They also found out about the drugs and I already had a rap sheet. Era el final del camino para mí. I had to hitchhike out here. Mi tia, she took me in with no notice. And, well, I've spent every day since trying to be un hombre mejor. So there is my deep dark history. Sorry for dumping it all on you, but I appreciate you always listening. I need to tell it to someone so I don't go crazy..”

When Connor opens his eyes to smile at me, it's a sad moment. He grabs my knee again, but uses it to push himself up. “I'm glad I could help. You've been through a lot. I have no idea what it must be like to be you. The worst thing I have to deal with is being called a faggot. You... you're really strong.”

“No soy tan fuerte,” I mutter as I stare at the sidewalk. For some reason, I can't even look at Connor. Is it guilt or dread?

“I don't know what that means, and I don't really know what to say to everything.” Connor squats down and lifts my head so that my eyes are looking into his. It's intimate and frightening all at the same time. “It's just, everything you told me tonight made me realize that you're gonna be able to handle this, even if I feel like an asshole for saying it.”

Mi respiración se ve atrapado en mi pecho.

“This whole thing... Your life is a mess. Or it was, but you aren't moving on. I think. I don't know. I just... You're telling me all this and I don't know what it means!

“You need to figure out what you want, Mateo. You said yes when I asked you out. then you said you weren't ready and I accepted it. But then you told me that you have dark secrets to need to share with me, then said you couldn't tell me because you didn't know me well enough. And tonight you gave me your entire life's story.

“I won't tell anyone what you told me. You can trust that.” Connor's hand moves out from under my chin, caressing my cheek and then sliding back to my neck. “But you need to figure out just what the hell am I to you. Am I a friend? Am I a stranger? A confessional who can absolve you of your sins? Because I'm trying to understand, but all I have are mixed messages and you telling me I don't matter and it hurts. So until you do, just... don't talk to me. I hate saying that, because it feels like I'm a bitch, but I can't be your sounding board anymore. And don't worry, I'll find somewhere else to sit during lunch.”

Then he slips his hand away, rights himself, and leaves. And all I want to do is wait until he's around the corner before I break. However, I can't even do that because I hear the sound of someone sitting beside me. I assume it's mi tia, but when the person speaks it's a deeper voice. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop.”

I try to blink away the tears before they can fall. “Jordan? Why are you here? How much did you hear?”

“I heard most of it. Sorry. I know you didn't want me to know.” His voice is a little off, but I assume it's from shock. I'm a little shocked myself that he knows where la tienda is. He's never been by before. “And I know this is a really bad time, but can I stay with you? Just for tonight, until I can figure something else out. I can't go back there.”

“Back where?” I choke out as I look at Jordan. Then I gag a little because his face is a mess. Even in the darkness from nightfall, I can see the bruises and scabs. “Let me... I have to ask mi tia.”

“Thanks.” He doesn't smile. I don't think he's able to.


	4. Chapter 4

My back hurts. The futon has never been the most comfortable place to sleep, but compared to a hardwood floor in November, es el cielo. I doubt I even got three hours of steady sleep. Yo tenga a hablo con mi tia acerca de la calenta.

At least Jordan looks better. His face has healed up quite a bit from last night, but this is all in relative terms. Él todavía aspecto malo. He hasn't told us anything yet, but mi tia made him promise he wasn't hiding from the cops. I guess having me here is bad enough, legally speaking. I still need to ask her about that.

"Mañana buena," I greet when I finally see him wake up. I should be getting ready for school, but mi tia agreed to call in sick for me so I can take care of Jordan. It's the only day of school I've missed since I enrolled.

"Hey." He cringes as he sits up and looks around for his shirt. I look away. Not because I'm bashful or anything, but because the bruising on his torso is far worse than his face. There are belt marks across his back and chest.

"Mi tia can call the school for you. She has a great white woman accent." Jordan doesn't accept my offer, but he also can't find his shirt so I grab him one of mine. It's a little tight on him but my clothes would be tight on anybody. I've always been skinny, minus my year of coke bloat. I don't have any of my clothes from those days, though. I wasn't allowed to bring anything.

"It's fine. I have a million absence slips. My mom writes them out ahead of time. All I need to do is add the date." He doesn't sound happy about it, but I don't pry. "On second thought, fuck it. I'll just take the unexcused absence."

He tries to stand but has a hard time of it. I lean down and help him up. He's in a similar condition to when... I wonder if mi tia felt this way about me when I showed up on her doorstep.

"Thanks," he says after I help him sit at our mesa poca. "Sorry about all of this. And about last night."

"I think mi tia put your shirt and jeans in the washer. I don't think you can fit in my pants, but I have some sweats. They have stretchy elastic." I really do not want to talk to Jordan about my issues. It isn't as easy with him as it was with Connor. Something tells me that it's because I actually know Jordan.

"Are you calling me fat?" For just a moment, Jordan smiles.

"Si," I reply with a smile of my own.

Jordan laughs and it does a lot to ease the tension in the room. He asks where mi tia is, and I tell him that she's probably downstairs getting ready to open la tienda. She always opens it at 8 for los chicos y las chicas en su camino al trabajo. It isn't a lot of business, but it's better than no business at all.

I fret about the kitchen, preparing coffee and debating if I want to cook for my guest or just throw waffles in the toaster. As I'm feeling lazy, waffles win out.

"You don't have to feed me or anything." Jordan tries to argue, but I won't have it. Close or not, él es mi amigo.

"Milk or orange juice?" I ask, trying to remember to use words he would know. It's not really the time to be flaunting my bilingualism. Although, I'm very uncomfortable with using the word “flaunt” to describe it.

"Milk is fine."

I pour him a glass and put it on the table, then throw the syrup bottle into the microwave. No suelo comer estas cosas. Mi tia usually is up and cooking while I'm in the shower but I haven't showered yet and she decided to give us space.

"Can I ask what happened?" I ask, pointing at my own face. There is only so long I can skirt around the issue. I see Jordan reach down and scratch his leg and remember he's only wearing his boxers. I pounce on that before he can answer my question. "I'll go grab you those sweats."

I'm not sure if I'm giving him an out or if I even really want to know what happened. While I go into the hall closet to fetch the sweats, I hear the toaster pop up. I grab the first pair I can find and race back to the the tiny kitchen and throw the sweats on the table. Jordan's milk is nearly knocked over.

"You're nervous," he notes sadly. "I'm sorry. I would have gone somewhere else. I should probably have gone to the cops..."

I wait until I have Jordan's waffles on a plate and the butter dish in my hand to walk back to la mesa. I set both in front of him, then retrieve the syrup from the microwave.

"Yeah, I'm nervous," I confess. Is this how Connor felt last night? "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing that hasn’t happened before," he sighs. He's staring at his waffles and I remember that he needs a fork. The butter also needs a knife. While I excuse myself to get them, he continues. "Mom must have been drunker than usual, though she's always blitzed so I couldn't really tell. She almost never goes for the face."

"Your mom?" I flash back to the day before. I remember Sofia telling me about mi padre hitting me.

"Yeah." Jordan chuckles, and as I shudder I hope that he doesn't notice. "I don't even remember why she did it. I usually don't. And she's usually more careful about avoiding the face because of school. I must've really pissed her off."

He mimics cracking a whip, complete with sound effects. Tengo que mirar de nuevo.

“Sorry,” he apologizes again. “It's just... the face thing. It happened a few days ago. It's why I haven't been in school. As for why I came here last night...”

He stops and breathes, trying to collect himself. I don't really say anything. No sé qué decir. I grab orange juice from the fridge before returning to the table with his utensils.

“Why were you in such a hurry to get me dressed?” he chuckles in a not-at-all subtle change of the subject. “Is it because you find me irresistible? You know, I don't mind you looking. Just don't touch.”

Then he flexes and I want to stab him. Mainly because he's always making some kinda joke about me being bi that isn't offensive so much as just dumb, but also because he actually is in better shape than me. I mean, he does have to walk everywhere because his family can't afford un coche, and it shows. I've even seen him walking around town on the odd occasion I've run errands for la tienda.

"Why didn't you go to the police?" The orange juice looks really bright. I focus my eyes as I pour it into my glass so I don't have to see Jordan's face. "I mean, she's beating you."

"Because if I did, my sister and nephew would be fucked. She's 19 and still in high school. It takes my entire paycheck and whatever SSI my mom doesn't drink away to keep the roof over our heads. And my nephew turns three in a couple months and there have been weeks we only had the WIC checks to eat off of."

Jordan has... He's always made poor white trash jokes, but I suppose I never considered exactly what it entailed. Even during January and February, when the store goes into a slump, we still made enough money that we could pay the bills and eat. Yo siempre tengo mi cheque de pago para gastar en lo que quiera.

"But if I turn my mom in, we lose our home. And, honestly, I can take it. If she has me as an outlet, she won't touch Annie or Josh."

"But why did you come to me... Why did you come here last night?" Is it awful of me to appreciate that Jordan is distracting me from my own mess of a life?

He grins again and I know he's about to say something lewd. "I may be straight, but that doesn't mean I don't want a blowjob every now and then. It'll be our little secret."

"Kill yourself," I retort without thinking. Even if he weren't poor, Jordan would still be trash. Luckily, my harsh response makes him snort. Pendejo.

"But seriously. Even I have my breaking point, and I don't have a lot of places I can go. I doubt Yolanda's parents would appreciate a busted up white boy on their doorstep."

"What about your dad?" I know Jordan's parents are divorced. Or were getting one. I never really bothered to keep up with his life. Suddenly, I'm wishing I had.

"What about the deadbeat? He left my mom for a waitress at the Chinese buffet, which suddenly made my mom think racism is a great idea, and doesn't pay his child support. The asshole still lives in town and I haven't seen him in almost six months."

"What about John's dad? Could he help out?" I'm grasping at straws, I know, but someone has to be able to do something.

"Do you mean Josh, my nephew? My sister doesn't know who the dad is. She went to a frat party at when she was 15, some place in Arizona, and hooked up with a dude who thought she was 18. She never got his name. You never heard that from me."

There is... No puedo pensar en nada. Is this why people stay with abusers? Because there are no other options?

"Any time you need to..." I sigh and look from Jordan to the carton of orange juice in my hand. How did I not let it go? How has he not noticed? "Well, if you ever need a break, just come here. I'll tell mi tia something. Like you got jumped by kids from another school or something. I don't know. But I... I worry about you."

When did I start worrying about Jordan? I only hung with him at lunch because we had a silent agreement to not invest in each other. But then Yolanda helped me yesterday. Was I the only one being selfish and trying not to care about these guys and their problems? Are we actually friends and I didn't know it?

Por qué me metí en esto?

"Enough about me. How are you?" Jordan pulls me from my thoughts, and I just watch him cut up his waffles. "I noticed you aren't eating anything. Not hungry?"

I forgot to eat again. I only do that when I'm stressed. It's probably why I'm so skinny. The last few years have been nothing but stress.

"No, it's nothing." I wave off Jordan's concerns because I'll get hungry eventually.

"Sorry Connor dumped you." Jordan spears a couple pieces of waffle with his fork. "I know you guys weren't actually dating or whatever, but it's still harsh."

Is he really doing that thing where he brings up someone else's problems to avoid talking about his own? I thought I held the trademark on that. He's better at it than I am, too.

As he chews his food, I sit in silence and try to figure out if I'm supposed to respond. And it's also kinda bothering me how easy it is to stop speaking Spanish. I didn't realize how hard I was working to put my words into a second language until two people made me stop.

"Connor didn't say anything I didn't deserve." Confession is supposed to be good for the soul, but all I am is terrified. For just a few minutes, I had forgotten that Jordan knew everything I told Connor: todo lo relacionado con las drogas y María.

"Sounds to me like you don't know what you deserve," Jordan says after he swallows the waffle he'd been chewing on. "I don't remember much about when you moved here, I was still in middle school, but right now? You've turned your life around. You aren't on drugs, you don't cause trouble at school, and you don't deserve to be unhappy. If you think you deserve to be miserable because of whatever you did in the past, then that's all you'll ever be."

TLT

Jordan didn't ask for a ride home. Yo realmente no le esperaba. Mi tia, she offered anyway because I could mind la tienda while she's gone, but he declined and just started walking back to the place he had fled from the night before.

And I did what I promised: I fed mi tia a line of bullshit about kids from another school. She didn't believe it but she let it go.

"Tia..." I say a couple hours later when it's just us. It's something mi hermana made me think of. "How did you enrol me in school? I never thought about it, but you can't do that. Sólo un padre o tutor puede. And I know we aren't using fake IDs because we're both citizens. So how?"

"Mijo," she says sadly. And it tells me everything I know. She only calls me that when she's worried about me.

"Mis padres knew I came here: that I came to you. And they signed me over, didn't they?"

She nods and looks into my eyes. I can't even bring myself to be mad at her. Somehow, I should've known it really was that simple. It's not like mis padres would've cared where I went. I just want to know why she hid it from me.

Slowly, she folds her hands together and looks at the door. It's obvious that she wants a customer to come in and cut the conversation short. "How did you know, Mijo? I never... You never asked."

"Fui a ver Sofia," I confess. She narrows her eyes but says nothing. For a moment, I hesitate, but I continue. "They weren't there. Mi madre y padre, I mean. I just had some questions. I didn't think about any of this stuff when I first moved here because I wanted to get clean. And when I was, we'd already - we had a routine."

" Usted partió el estado and didn't think to tell me?" She's mad, and I knew she would be, but I'm mad, too. Dammit! She's lied to me from the beginning!

"You never told me that they signed away custody. I thought we changed my name so they wouldn't know I was here." All I want to do is scream and break things because it isn't fair. But I can't do that to mi tia because she took me in and loved me when I didn't deserve it. She forgave me for Maria when mis padres disowned me. "Why then? Why am I Mateo Villegas?"

"Because you wanted a fresh start, Mijo. Your school... They know Villegas isn't your legal name. I told them you were using it out of deference to me, but all your paperwork still says Gonzalez. You just didn't know because tus profesoras didn't fight me on it. I know it wasn't right to hide it from you, but you were so fragile when you first came here, Mijo. I didn't know how to tell you, and it just became easier to keep it from you."

"Lo siento fui a Arizona. I should have told you." My anger starts to seep away and guilt rushes in to fill its place. I'm not one for being mad, not these days, but I can handle guilt. It comes to me as easily as breathing. "I just had to do it. I had to ask her some things. She told me that she knew I was here. They knew I was here. And mis padres never called or wrote or anything."

"Mijo, they said we deserved each other." Mi tia reaches across the counter and takes my hand. "They were right. And they don't deserve you. Anyone who would write you off es un tonto. Tu eres un tonto, as well, Mijo. You're grounded for a month for that."

I almost ask what she's grounding me from since I don't don't do anything, but I stop myself. My hole is deep enough already.

"When I saw Sofia, I told her about you." I can hear mi tia choke a bit and stop breathing. She releases my hand and steps away from me. She turns her back and mindlessly adjusts the merchandise on a nearby shelf.

"What did she say?" Ella no se parece a mí. It took me awhile to adjust when I learned she was trans. Now, it's like mi tia has always been mi tia y Tio Roberto was someone else.

"She's... She seemed okay with it. I think. I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to tell her, but she kept talling about Uncle Robert and that's not who you are. Tu eres mi Tia Antonia." I look my hands and use my right thumb to dig out the dirt under the nails on my left hand. Anything so I can't see her face. "I don't know if she'll tell nuestros padres."

"They would know eventually, Mateo." When she doesn't call me "Mijo", I know I fucked up. Because of course I fuck up: it's just my nature. Even after moving here, after all the work I did, I still ruin everything por mi tia. It's that same fucking up of everything that made mis padres stop loving me.

And I'm also a hypocrite because I outed mi tia a mi hermana, but I didn't tell Sofia about me. She doesn't know I'm bi; I could rationalize that it never came up but I would be lying to myself.

Dios mio, soy un pendejo.

TLT

"You're Mateo, right?" She stops me on my way to History class. It takes a second to register who she is. I haven't ever really spoken to Jordan's sister outside of that one time when first moved here. So why is she approaching me now? Unless...

"I don't think there are any others en la escuela," I tell her as I shuffle the books in my arms. She reaches out and takes them from me. That leaves me too stunned to form a response.

"Can you... Can I talk to you?" We step off to the side to let the sea of students pass us by.

La celebración de mis manos, I shake my head. "I can't. I'm gonna be late."

"Please," she practically begs, acting more like she's 14 than 19. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she stands up straight and adjusts her shoulders. "It's important."

"Fine," I sigh. I'm already on mi tia's bad side for going to Arizona without telling her, so it's not like missing class is gonna make things any worse. Is she gonna ground me from even more shit I don't do?

We go to an empty classroom, and I watch other students pass by the door. Some look inside and let their eyes linger on us.

"I'm Anastasia. Jordan probably called be 'Annie', but I hate that and he knows it. It's why he does it." She puts my stuff on a nearby desk and looks for a place to sit. She settles for the vacated teacher's desk. I choose to remain standing. For some reason, I don't feel like I can relax around her. It's not like I think she's dangerous, but the hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up.

"You know who I am," I sigh. "And I noticed Jordan still isn't back to school."

"And you know he isn't sick," she confesses. Guilt is written on her face, and it would only be more prominent if that were a literal statement. "I'm so sorry. But thank you for not saying anything."

Mi silencio no es algo de lo que estoy orgulloso. I can only imagine how she feels. It was one night for me, but it's probably everyday for Anastasia (Annie? What do I call her? Probably not Annie since she said she hates it) and Jordan.

"When I graduate, I'm taking my son and moving out. I'll take Jordan with us. As long as she gets her check, she won't care. But I... Thank you for taking care of him. He doesn't have a lot of friends. He used to, when he was little, but Jordan pushed a lot of people away after our dad left. So did I."

She is pouring her heart out to me and all it does is make me uncomfortable. And it's nowhere close to how Connor must have felt when I did this to him. At least I know Jordan. Connor didn't even know me. Not really. De ningún modo.

"I'm not saying anything. Not because of you, even though you're why he... El no me pidió que and I want to respect his wishes."

The way she won't look at me assures me that she knows Jordan is doing all of this for her. I really don't know why she sought me out: ninguno de nosotros realmente quería tener esta conversación.

She thanks me again, and it sounds like she is on the verge of tears. I want to comfort her, but I also want to run from the room. We stay there for a few minutes, Anastsia sitting and trying not to break down from guilt and shame, and me doing my best to not leave her alone and hurting.

After collecting herself, Anastasia slides off the desk and gives me an awkward hug. We don't say anything because there isn't anything left to say. I don't think there was ever anything between us worth saying.

After I gather my things, I follow her out of the empty room. Then I stop and stare. Connor stares back at me. In his hand is a hall pass. His line of sight shifts from me to Anastasia and I blink.

For a second, just a second, Maria is looking back at me. There is pain in her dark eyes. She says nothing, and I blink again. Connor is still there, his skin pale and his hair a sandy brown and looking like anything but Maria. I tear my eyes away from him, and look to Anastasia who is as frozen as we are. Entonces miro hacia atrás a Connor. I shuffle my books from one hand to the other. Gathering up my I courage, I take the first step and walk away from them both.

I don't even wait to be out of their eyesight to run. Throwing my stuff against a nearby wall, I bolt to the nearest exit. Even though I'm going to get in even more trouble for leaving school grounds, I keep running to the sidewalk and then down the street. The world is a blur and even though my lungs are aching I keep running as though my thoughts somehow won't catch up with me.

Seeing mi hermana didn't help at all. I slam into a tree and stumble into someone's yard as I try to pull myself out of another panic attack. Why can't I escape her ghost? Por qué María me persiguen no importa lo que yo haga? What is it about Connor that makes me think of her? Why do I see her at all?

And if I'm going through all of this, what is she experiencing?

Someone opens a door and yells at me. I can't hear what is being said. My brain is filling with so many thoughts and sensations that I can't keep up: lleva todo lo que tengo para mantenerme en pie.

Somehow, I get back on the sidewalk and I keep moving. I have no idea where I am or what I'm doing. All I can hear is Maria screaming and my hands are red but I'm not sure if it's from where I hit the tree or if Maria's blood is still there. I thought I had washed it off. It'll never be gone.

"Mateo!" A voice cuts through the fog for a second, but I don't know if it's real or another memory overwhelming me. I don't even know if it belongs a un chico o chica.

Don't let it be Connor again. It can't be him. Or mi tia. She still doesn't know about the attacks. She can't ever know. Who else would it be? Yolanda? Jordan? Uno de mis profesores? It's probably Maria again. En el final del dia, siempres es Maria. It's always me being trapped in my own head and memories.

I hear the squealing of brakes and somehow I've run into the street but I still can't see anything but Maria or my own bloodsoaked hands and I'm crying again but I can't hear myself over the honking horns or the screaming girl or the stranger calling my name.

Por qué no puede jamás simplemente parar?

TLT

"You won't get in trouble, will you?" I ask Señor Verde.

Actually, his name is Mr. Green, but when I first started at Monroe High, I was still doing the "Spanish as defiance" thing I do now only moreso. All the other teachers eventually got me to refer to them by their English names, but not Señor Verde. He thought it was amusing and eventually my classmates picked up on it. Everyone calls him that now, even though he's just your average white Math teacher.

And when I heard someone yelling for me, it was him. He'd seen me run by his classroom and followed me off the school grounds. I don't think he's allowed to do that, but he did. The man pulled me out of traffic and waited with me until I came to my senses.

"I think Ms. Oliver will understand," he says with a smile. Ms. Oliver is our principal. She's the one who called in mi tia even though I begged her not to.

In fact, Ms. Oliver and mi tia are talking in her office right now while I wait outside with Señor Verde. A few of my classmates make a point of walking by the office to look at me, pero ninguno de ellos dijo nada. I'm sure they're talking about me, though. Tengo un aspecto horrible. My palms aren't bleeding, but the tree and the pavement both scraped them up. My eyes are also puffy as hell from the crying. Most of all, this is the first time I've ever been in actual trouble at this school.

Back in Arizona, when I lived con mi familia, I spent more time sitting outside the principal’s office while he talked to mis padres than I can remember. I thought I was done with that.

Y mi tia... I promised her I wasn't falling into old habits. This was all going so well, and yet I'm leaving the state without telling her and running out of school to have a breakdown. What am I doing?

And why did I freak out? Maria? Connor? It's not that simple anymore. No puede ser. There is no reason for me to act the way I did just because Connor, for some reason, reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. No reason.

"Mateo?" Señor Verde's hand is on my shoulder and I don't remember him putting it there. "If you need to talk, you can always come to me. You know that, right? I'm here to help you."

I nod and attempt a smile. I'm not quite sure if it works.

A few minutes later, mi tia y Ms. Oliver leave her office. Mi tia promises to talk to me, and I'm dismissed for the day. Señor Verde stays behind to talk to the principal while I leave con mi tia.

There is still an hour of school remaining.

"She didn't suspend you. It's your first offence." Mi tia isn't happy, but she wait until we're in el coche to talk to me.

As I try to figure out if I should say anything, I fasten my seatbelt. Ella no se inicia el motor.

"Por que?" She asks me, her voice quivering. She doesn't know how to handle this. When I was with Maria and doing drugs, mis padres had already disowned her. She never had to see me at my worst. She never saw Matt the junkie thug with an attitude.

"Lo siento," I answer. Some kids snuck out of school early to have sex in a car. Neither one has noticed us yet. Mi tia hasn't noticed them. I watch them so I don't have to look at her. "It's just that things have been hard."

"How?" She's exasperated and it makes me want to cry all over again. "I know that learning about tus padres was difficult, but you know better than to ditch school!"

"It's not about them!" I scream at her. The kids look over and see me staring at them. The guy doesn't seem bothered by it, but the girl looks like she wants to stop. Finalmente miro lejos. I don't look at mi tia.

Mi tia doesn't know Maria. They never met. All she knows is what I've told her. I told her a lot. I'm sure I probably told her everything. It wasn't enough. Words alone can't explain the horror of watching someone thought you loved slowly die by your hand: and what the hell does a 13-year-old know about love? Because what I did to Maria? That was not love.

She calls me "Mijo" in a soft voice. I've said before that she only calls me that when she's worried. Y ella ha estado preocupado por un tiempo. Ever since my failed date with Connor when I came home and told her I need therapy when I knew full well we couldn't afford it. I never should have said anything. The last thing she needs is for me to turn her life upside even more than I already have. I've been nothing but a drain to her.

"What did Sofia tell you? What could tu hermana have said to make you act out like this?" She wants to help me, but she can't. Nobody can help until I know what is wrong with me!

"Nothing I didn't already know," I admit. It stings even more saying it out loud. Of course, I don't tell her about Anastasia and Jordan. Or Connor. Dios mio, why is it Connor who does this to me? Why does being around him make me feel comfortable enough that I can spill my guts, yet so terrified I have panic attacks and break down in public? Por qué veo a María cuando yo estaba buscando en él?

Mi tia inicia el coche, sensing that the conversation is over for the immediate future. I know that when we get home, there will be more to say. Until we get there, I'm going to enjoy the silence and the scenery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of the preview! Thanks for reading, everyone. Hope you buy the final book whenever I finally publish it. :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a scrapped chapter containing characters and storylines that have been pulled from the final product. I am uploading it solely so people can see what could have been.

The first indication that something wrong is when Dwayne Anderson sits next to me in homeroom. I think it's the only time he's ever done so because we don't like each other. I'm the brown guy with a chip on his shoulder and he is the spoiled white kid with a silver spoon.

"Matty, my brother! What's new?" He says as he slaps a hand on my back. In his other hand is his cellphone, the screen turned inward to his palm. This wouldn't the first time someone has shown me a clip of gay porn as a joke. It's never as funny as they think.

Rolling my eyes, I ignore him. I've never been here for Dwayne because he acts like the world owes him for being an athlete or something, even though he got banned from all athletics after testing positive for steroids last year. And of course he was allowed back on the teams this year.

No tenemos nada en común.

"C'mon, Matty, don't shut me out. I'm not homophobic."

"It's Mateo," I correct, knowing that even giving him that much is giving too much.

"Friends have nicknames, and I want us to be friends. Just like how I know you're friends with that Freshman kid, Connie."

And when he mangles Connor's name, a cold chill runs down my spine.

"Back off, Dwayne." Alex intervenes. He physically separates the two of us before Dwayne can continue. "Mateo, I need you to come with me."

"I didn't know you swung that way, Alex. At this rate, Matty may just be more popular than Stacy."

My mouth goes dry. Acaso Connor diga algo de lo de anoche? Why else would Dwayne compare me to the school slut?

Taking my wrist, Alex urges me out of my seat, then utters a vague threat to Dwayne. In response, Dwayne just laughs and starts playing whatever video is on his phone. Alex physically pushes me out of the room as all the other students gather around the tiny screen.

"Go home," Alex orders as he shuts the classroom door behind us. I can see some of our classmates are watching us through the tiny window in the door. "You can't be here right now. I'll say you got sick or something."

"What's going on?" I manage to utter as I step backwards through the hall. It isn't empty, but most of the students are on their way to class because the warning bell already went off. I keep walking until I hit the row of lockers along the wall.

"You and that freshman..." He starts, before turning around and seeing the faces crowded around the window. Alex reaches out and grabs my wrist again. "They know about you guys, Mateo. Some asshole filmed you two last night. I didn't know about it until I saw the video this morning. I'm so sorry."

Mi piernas colapso. Alex tries to catch me, but isn't fast enough. The few teens that haven't made their way to class are now transfixed on me. This cannot be happening. Esta no es mi vida. Things were starting to get better!

"Are you okay?" Alex attempts to help me stand, but my limbs are jello. "Fuck it, I'll take you home. My parents will understand. Just get up."

"Un video?" I whisper as Alex bends down to help me. Where are the teachers? Shouldn't there be teachers?

"I always thought you'd be the guy, Matty. Never took you for the type to get on your knees. And for a freshman!" Dwayne has opened the door and is making a spectacle. "Not to mention you didn't just suck his dick: you let him full-on facefuck you. You took it like a champ, though. Gotta give you credit for that."

Vomito en mí mismo. Dwayne and his friends start howling, and I notice that he has his camera out recording everything. What did I ever do to him?

"Go the fuck away," Alex yells at everyone as he tries, and fails, to help me to my feet. Out of nowhere, Yolanda appears and helps him pick me up.

"Back the hell off," she warns them before we turn our backs and leave.

TLT

"Vomité en su coche," I say numbly as I dry my hair. "Lo siento."

"It's fine, man." Alex is sitting on his bed and tosses me a t-shirt and sweats. “Your clothes are in the wash. I would've taken you home, but you kind of couldn't tell me where that was. I hope that's okay.”

"Es bueno," I insist as I sit beside him and scowl. For everything Alex did, I appreciate him, but I just... He committed social suicide because of me and I have no idea why. And Yolanda was there but she didn't come with us because of Connor.

That's right. Connor fue en el video también. I still haven't seen it, but he has to be in it. I mean, we were both there.

"Lo sabe mi tia?"

"She called your cell and I answer while you were in the shower. The school called her because you weren't there for attendance. They called my parents, too, but I've dodged their calls until I could talk to you. It isn't exactly my place to let everyone know that her nephew had a sex tape leak all over school."

"Que decirle?"

"That you puked and I took you home. It's not a lie, but it's not good enough. She's going to want all the details and she doesn't know who I am at all: we did only meet the one time."

Right. When I had that panic attack in the middle of class. It seems like a million years ago that happened.

"Lo siento," I say again. I still mean it. "Acerca de su ojo negro, Alex."

Alex smiles. It makes me feel not as awful. "You might as well call me Alejandro."

"Por que?"

"The Spanish," he explains. "You haven't said a single word of English since we left school. Mi familia de nuevo en México me llama Alejandro. They can't speak English. Only the people here in the States call me Alex. So if you're gonna keep using Spanish, just call me Alejandro. It feels less weird."

I look away from Alex... I stop looking at Alejandro's smiling face and instead to the sweats in my hand. They're technically too small for me but I should still probably put them on. I can only imagine how uncomfortable Alejandro is having me sitting next to him, on his bed, wearing nothing but a towel around my neck and another around my waist.

I don't even try to hide my grin.

"Si, Alejandro," I say without looking at him. I shake my head and let myself resume being stoic. Or my poor attempt at it. "Puedo ver el video?"

"Do you want to... I don't have it, but I can get it. I don't think you should, though. I'm not judging you, Mateo. God knows I'm not a virgin myself, but nobody ever... There's no physical record of what I've done. And this isn't exactly pretty."

I get that he's trying to protect me, but I remember doing whatever was on the tape. No puede ser tan difícil.

"Alejandro, por favor, el video es a mi. Que merecen para ver que."

"Give me a couple minutes." Suena tan disculpas. He excuses himself so that I can get dressed and he can have time to get the video. This shouldn't have happened. Just because Aña stood me up at that stupid party I didn't even want to go to... I should have left. I should have just hung out with her and her son instead of sulking and hooking up with Connor.

He says nothing when he returns and hands me his phone. I'm not sure if he turned the sound off or if the video is just silent, but I watch all seven minutes without saying a word. Dios, fue a sólo siete minutos?? How did I not hear whomever it was shooting us?

What kind of hell is Connor going through? Because I'm not the only one in that video, but I am the one who got away.

"Por que estas aqui?" I ask Alejandro a couple minutes after the video ends. The thumbnail pic is Connor's hand on the back of my head. I stare at Connor's hand instead of the guy sitting next to me.

"What do you mean? It's my house." He reaches out and puts on hand on my wrist, and uses the other to remove his phone from my grip. "Mateo, I know you aren't okay, but you do remember where we are, right?"

Nodding, I gently pry his fingers off me. "Si." I fish around for the words to say. "No estamos amigos. Por que te importa? Yo no soy una persona buena."

"You're not a bad person, Mateo. If you were, you wouldn't keep apologizing for accidentally giving me a black eye or puking in my car. And we're not close friends, but that doesn't mean I want to watch Dwayne or his asshole brigade harass you for..." Alejandro stops and rubs the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. "Well, you know why.

"And Sara called while you were in the shower, too. She didn't text, she called. She wanted to make sure you were okay."

I can't say anything. Both English and Spanish are failing me, así que sólo me siento y escucho. It's never exactly been in my skill set to just listen.

"Mateo, there aren't as many people who hate you as you may believe. Yeah, there will be Dwaynes, but not all of us are homophobes. Hell, some of the gringos aren't even racist!"

Casting a glance up to his face, I see Alejandro is back to smiling. It almost makes me want to return it, but mostly I want to cry. Not even in the shower... I still haven't cried or felt the beginning of a panic attack.

"Soy un bisexual," I remind him with a heavy sigh. "Yo soy un maricon y me gustan las chicas."

"Why would you call yourself that? I'm not some clueless white guy, Mateo. You know I know what that means.”

He really doesn't get it, does he? Por qué lo haría? I don't get it and it's happening to me.

"Que deseas? Mi vida es un desastre. Tengo una cinta de sexo! Lo estoy intentado." And then it happens. I break. It's a small sob at first, barely a hiccup, but then the tears start rolling. I cover my face with my hands so Alejandro or Alex or whatever I'm supposed to call him can't see me. It's stupid because he's only a foot away but it's all I have.

TLT

"You don't have a fever, Mijo," mi tia says as she feels my head with the back of her hand. Alejandro... He's back at school or home or whatever. He took me home after my sobfest and didn't stick around. No sé cómo procesar eso. "Are you sure you're sick? Or did you just want a day off from school after all that fun you had with that chica the other night night?"

I flash back to Aña calling to tell me her babysitter fell through; I remember talking with Connor about being alone at a party full of people.

"Tia, I'm..." I shift my legs and crack my knuckles as I try to think of something to say. All I want to do is lie  
and pretend nothing is happening. That didn't work with the panic attacks, though. "I had sex last night."

She's really calm. That's not what I expected. "Do you need Plan B, Mateo? I thought you learned how important it is to use protection." She rubs her forehead with her fingertips. I notice for maybe the first time that she's painting her nails. She never did that before. She would point out that any manicure or whatever she got done would be ruined by all the work the store needs.

"I don't need Plan B, Tia. Aña wasn't the one I slept with. It was even full on sex. Dios mio, this is embarrassing." I fight back a couple tears and almost win until she sits next to me and holds my hand. As I let the tears roll down my face, I use my free hand to twist the futon mattress. I've done so much crying the last few months: after mis padres disowned me, I thought I was done with that.

"What is it, Mijo? Are you worried that this girl is going to be mad if she finds out you had sex with someone else?"

"I slept with a guy, Tia. If you can even call it that. Aña, that girl I started seeing, she's the sister of a friend and she has a kid. We were supposed to hang out at a party that night, and I swear to you I stayed sober, but she couldn't get a babysitter."

"And one thing led to another with this young man..."

"It feels so weird telling you this, but I blew him, Tia. I gave the guy a blow job and I think that normally I could handle it, but everyone at school knows about it. It's why Alejandro brought me home."

She sighs and pulls me to her chest. Even though I've been taller than her since I moved here, it still feels like I'm being protected. I wrap my arms around her torso and pull her even closer.

"Oh, Mijo, he told everyone, didn't he? Chicos suck, but it'll pass. Do you want me to call his parents?"

I bite my lip and breathe in her perfume. Well, it isn't really perfume so much as rosewater, but I focus on the scent as I try to gather my courage. Why is my life such a mess? Hasn't karma done enough to pay me back for Maria? Es esto debido a las drogas y el robo?

"Hay un video." I whisper into her blouse. Please don't let her hate me for this. I already lost mis padres y acabo de recibir mi hermana de vuelta. I can't lose mi tia. Not over this; not when I've worked so hard to put my life back together.

"Un video?" Her voice is cold, but her hands are warm until she lets me go. She starts to stand and I release her. "Mateo, you didn't..."

My eyes are pointed to the floor as I answer her unfinished question. "I didn't know. I swear, I had no idea. I don't even know how anyone knew we were together. I was supposed to be at the party with someone else! We were alone in the bedroom. Or I thought we were alone. No me odies, por favor."

Her palm cups my cheek and and I reach for her hand as though it's everything I ever wanted. I look up into her eyes and they're soft but frightened but loving.

"Te amo, Mijo. Para siempre. I need to call the police. And probably your school. Do you need to call your friend and tell him? I should definitely talk to his parents."

"Don't," I say as I think of Connor. "Don't call anyone until I talk to him. Please. This is... It's humiliating for me, but I've been through worse. I've done worse. He's the only innocent one in all of this. And also..."

I close my eyes let her go, leaning away from her soothing touch.

"If I do this, they'll find out about you. And I'm not worth it. I'm not worth you losing everything you've built. There will be investigations and mis padres will be contacted and..."

And enough people have already suffered because of me.


	6. Chapter 6

I took a couple days off. Mi tia understood. La escuela bought that I was sick. I think they preferred the lie to the reality. It's impossible to stay away forever, though. I suppose I could always drop out. That wouldn't help anything, though. And Connor... He blocked me on Facebook. I don't blame him, but I still need to talk to him. I need him to convince his parents or guardians or whoever to just let it go.

It's selfish, but mi tia is more important than he is.

"Hey, Mateo." Jordan is waiting for me at my locker. He looks pissed off, but restrained. I don't blame him; AÃ±a is his sister. Do I still get to call her that?

"How is she?" I ask. We don't need to pretend that he's here to support me.

"Hurt as hell."

"I didn't cheat on her." It's not a lie. We weren't serious. We weren't exclusive. We've only had one date.

"I know. Stay away from her anyway." His voice is cold. He turns and walks away. Everyone who isn't watching me is watching him. When he rounds the corner, all eyes shift back to me.

This is too early. I shouldn't have come back yet. Two days isn't enough time for a fucking sex tape to blow over. It's amazing how none of these people cared about me until they could mock me.

It takes me three tries to open my locker. My brain can't tune out the low level whispers of my schoolmates. From the moment I stepped on campus, everyone either watched me or ran to someone else to start whispering. Not everyone whispered, though. Some people loudly taunted me. And any faculty that was around said nothing.

A doll falls out of my locker and to the floor. I almost want to ignore it, but I see the metal wire. Even though everything screams at me not to, I pick it up. The wire is a hanger. The doll is a baby, and the hanger is shoved into its forehead. This is why Jordan was at my locker?

Not saying a word, not giving anyone the reaction they desperately want, I shove the doll into my backpack and throw it into my locker. I have to go to homeroom. Three absences in one week is pushing it. I don't want a tardy.

"Welcome back, Matty. You should come to basketball practice tonight. We need a new ballboy." Dwayne Anderson throws an arm around my shoulder and laughs vulgarly. I don't have the energy to shake him off. I can barely stand.

When I held that doll Jordan left me, and I have no idea how Jordan got my locker combination... Anyway, when I held it, for a moment I forgot about the tape. I forgot about Connor and everyone knowing about us because that doesn't matter.

I would rather everything watch that damn video on a theater screen than know I'm a murderer.

"You're not gonna say anything? And after I went through all the trouble of getting this for you." Dwayne reaches a hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a baggie. There's a white powder in it. I fight the urge to vomit again.

Show them nothing.

"It's not the real thing. They'd never let me bring that here, but I'm sure you'll find a use for it." Dwayne slaps it to my chest and the bag pops open. A little bit of the powder hits me in the face. It's flour. Dios mio. They know.

I can't walk. My mouth can't move. All I can do is hang my head and stare at the bag on the floor. Jordan told them everything. He told everyone what he heard me tell Connor.

"Seriously, though. Come to practice. I know of some equipment that could use a good spit shine." Dwayne laughs again and slaps me on the back. Hard.

I hit the floor with my knees and pain blossoms at the point of impact. I don't really feel it, though. There's an awareness that it hurts, but it's like breathing through cotton. There's a disconnect.

"He's crying," some girl says to her friend. Is she talking about me? I hold the tips of my fingers to my cheek, then pull them away. Dry. Then who?

Slowly, I raise my head and see. It's Connor. Everyone else is watching him, too. He's not bawling or anything, but tears are rolling down his pale cheeks and his lips are trembling. Our eyes meet and he runs off away from me. I want to chase him. There are things we need to talk about, but I don't. He needs to be alone and I need to get off the floor.

"Come on, get up." I look to my left and see Sara. She isn't smiling. All she ever does is smile. It's her superpower or something. "Let's go clean your shirt and your face."

Some other girl helps her help me to my feet. I still can't talk. Sara dares Dwayne to say something, and they take me to the nearest bathroom. Folks watch and whisper the entire way. This isn't fair to anyone.

"This is for girls," someone says while Sara and her companion lead me into the bathroom.

"There are stalls. He won't see shit," Sara snaps uncharacteristically. She then turns to her friend. "Dee, can you make sure nobody tries to come in?"

"Yeah," her friend nods, the beads in her braids clanking.

"Oh, it's him!" Exclaims the girl who said I wasn't welcome in the bathroom. "Yeah, I'd be hiding, too. You got balls coming back here, though. No pun intended."

"Please leave," Sara orders while ripping paper towels out of the dispenser.

"It was a compliment," the girl scoffs before stomping out. She does pause long enough to get a good look at me before leaving.

Sara turns the faucet on and sticks a wad of paper towels under the stream. When they're wet to her satisfaction, she wrings them out and starts wiping my face.

"I would tell you to ignore them, but I don't wanna patronize you, Mateo. She was right, though. You have guts. I don't think I could've... You know. Especially not after what that white kid told everyone."

I don't say anything because I have nothing to say.

"Do you need to go home? I can't take you, but Alex said to let you know he's always free if you need a ride." She throws the paper towels away and fetches some more. "The GSA had an emergency meeting yesterday. He's a member, you know. We were trying to think of how to support you. We don't really... Nobody knows who took the video. Nobody is coming forward. And that kid..."

"Connor," I say. It's the only thing I can say, and it makes Sara grimace. Why? He's as much a victim as I am.

"That's his name? Fuck him."

"Por que?"

"Connor, the guy in the video with you, he's the one who ran his mouth about you, Mateo. He told Dwayne everything in exchange for protection. And it just made everything twice as horrible for you." Sara starts wiping the flour off my shirt, but I take the paper towels from her and do it myself.

It wasn't Jordan who betrayed my trust. It was Connor. He swore to me he wouldn't say anything. I was the first person in this school to be nice to him. I trusted him!

But I don't know him. I know nothing about him. He was just a freshman that I sorta spilled my guts to precisely because I didn't know him.

"A continuation, se sabemos."

"It's true?" Sara leans against the sink and doesn't look at me. A lot of people are gonna find it hard to look at me.

"Si." I nod and throw the paper towel in the sink. The warning bell goes off but I don't care. "Que hice una gran cantidad de decisiones equivocadas antes de que me muda aqua."

"No hablo Espanol mucho." Sara looks up at me, but she isn't smiling. "Mateo, is that why you don't have have any friends? Because of that girl?"

"Su nombre... Her name is Maria." Sara isn't fluent. This isn't gonna be like when I talked to Alejandro. I can't just wrap myself in Spanish. It's weird how I grew up not being allowed to speak it in public, but now it's a security blanket. "And I'm a recovering addict. And I had sex with a freshman and some jackass leaked it. I think that's reason enough to want to be left alone."

Sara finally gives something along the lines of a smile. It's a small thing, just one side of her mouth quirked slightly upward, but it lifts an invisible weight from my shoulders.

"You may want to be alone, Mateo, but it's not a good idea. In fact, it's the last thing you need."

"Is this your way of inviting me to the GSA yet again?"

She shakes her head, but keeps smiling. "You'll come when you're ready. But until then, you can consider me a safe space. You can trust me."

"I thought I could trust Connor, too."

Sara's tiny smile disappears. I immediately miss it.

The tardy bell goes off. Neither one of us moves: her friend Dee opens the door to apologize. She says she's going to class.

"Do you want to go?" Sara cleans dirt or something out from under her nails. I don't know.

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to call someone?"

"No lo se."

There is a window in the women's bathroom. It's the kind with the frosted glass that you can't see through, but you can open it from the inside in case there's a fire or something. I open it.

No alarm goes off. I didn't think one would, but it wouldn't matter if one did.

"My bookbag is still in the hall. Unless someone took it. I also left my locker open for anyone to go through," I muse. What would anyone even find in there beyond that half-eaten candy bar I've been avoiding since Thanksgiving break ended?

Sara says nothing. I stick my head out the window sigh. It's a beautiful day out considering it's December. A bit cold, but no rain or anything like that. I have no idea what I'm doing. It's like my brain isn't even trying to process anything.

"Can you get him for me? I think I need to see him."

"Alex? You're going home?" Sara finally says something, but I can't read her voice. I don't want to see her face.

"Connor," I answer. Sara doesn't know him. She doesn't know which class he's in and neither do I. But I need to... No, I don't need to see him. I just want to, but I don't know what I will do if I do.

"That's not a good idea." Her statement makes all the sense in the world, but it doesn't matter. I have no other ideas, good or bad.

I lean back into the bathroom and close the window. My nose is runny from the temperature shift, so I wipe at it with the back of my hand.

He cried. He saw me and he cried.

TLT

I skip lunch. It's for the best because I'm not hungry anyway. When I did finally start going to my classes, none of the teachers asked me why I'd miss homeroom. I was just marked as late and the world moved on.

The tables outside are cold. In the spring and early autumn, students sit out here and eat or whatever, but right now I'm the only person sitting out here. It works.

Most of los coches driving by are slow and I tell myself it's because you have to slow down for a school zone: random strangers in automobiles don't care that I'm a drug addict or that there's a tape out there of me performing fellatio. More than likely, they want a cop to pull up and ask me for my papers. I so don't miss Arizona.

My backpack was stolen, but someone did shut my locker. I figure I'll report the former before I leave for the day. Whoever took it is bound to be bored by my half-finished homework.

"This is where you're hiding." Alejandro sits next to me. He has a half-eaten tray of food. "Estas tu bueno? Tienes hambre?"

"Estoy bien," I lie.

I can tell that he doesn't buy it. I can't tell why he's here. Before the other day, before Dwayne ambushed me in class with the video, the most we'd had to do with each other was that time I gave him a black eye. Why should he care?

"My mom goes to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting sometimes. She got hooked on Oxycontin after a car wreck when I was in the fifth grade. If you ever need a ride there or something, just let me know."

"I'm fine." This lying thing is coming to me so easily. I didn't kick the habit alone. Mi tia helped more than any twelve step program ever could have, but I still needed help. And now I have someone offering to help and I'm rejecting him. Why?

"You're not." Alejandro slips an arm around my shoulder and he's so warm. I really hadn't noticed how cold it is out here. I want to snuggle up against him but I can't.

"You aren't worried?"

He laughs a bit and holds his lunch tray in front of me. The french fries look cold but I am starting to need something to eat.

"If the worst thing they think of me is that I'm your boyfriend or something, I think I'll be okay."

I take the tray from Alejandro and set it on my lap. The fries are greasy and he drenched them in salt and vinegar, but I'm too hungry to care.

"That's pretty evolved thinking. Most straight guys freak out over that stuff," I counter. If we can keep this nonsensical conversation going, we can avoid the conversation I know he wants to have.

"I'm not most straight guys. Besides, I'm not your type."

"How do you know my type?" I scoff before biting into another small handful of fries.

"How do you think?" He tilts his head and looks at me with one eyebrow raised. I start to laugh but choke on a fry instead. Even so, the fact that I can still laugh is a good sign.

Alejandro smiles. It makes me smile after I dislodged the stuck fry. I don't expect it to last long, but I'm gonna enjoy it for as long as I have it.

"Hay que ir," Alejandro says, rubbing my shoulder. I appreciate his Spanish. He gets it. "Do you wanna go inside now? It's freezing out here."

"I really did think I didn't care what anyone thought of me," I confess.

"Is there anyone in particular you have in mind?"

Before I can answer him, Connor shows up. He's bundled up in a winter jacket and hat and has gloves on his hands. It's so adorable that I forget for a moment that I hate him.

"Oh." Alejandro stands up, putting himself between us. I set the tray of food on the table and cross my arms. I suddenly feel cold again.

"Mateo?" Connor's voice is small. I want to believe that there's no way he is the one that fucked me over. I want to give him a chance to prove that Jordan did it to avenge his sister's humiliation.

I want to believe I wasn't an idiot for trusting a complete stranger with all of my secrets.

"Get the fuck out of here," Alejandro warns. Having someone defend my honour feels nice, but it's not necessary.

"Es bueno," I tell Alejandro. Then I look into Connor's eyes and see that he's lost and hurt. He isn't some villain, he's just a scared kid. Just like I was when I was his age. Shit, I fucked up way worse than this when I was 14. "What?"

"You know what." He kicks at the concrete, scuffing his shoes.

"Unless you're apologizing, leave."

"Nah, I wanna hear this," I say, laying a hand on Alejandro's shoulder. "Just say what you have to say."

He doesn't say anything, just hands me a folded over piece of paper. I look from Connor to Alejandro to the paper. Licking my lips, I open it. Then I crumple it up and throw it in Connor's face. He doesn't seem surprised.

"What did I ever do to you? What the fucking hell is wrong with you?" I scream at him. Then I hear the laughter. Dwayne and his friends are standing over by the entrance to the cafeteria.

"It was either you or me. And I didn't deserve it," Connor spits, his shoulders straightening and his eyes meeting mine. "You never tried to see if I was okay. You left me here alone. Fuck you."

"I trusted you," I whisper, looking at the crumpled paper lounging on the ground between Alejandro and Connor.

"Yeah. That was as stupid as me thinking you'd stick up for me."

He walks away, towards and then through Dwayne's group. They're still laughing at me from afar.

Alejandro ignores them and bends down to retrieve the paper. He unfurls and reads it. "It's a picture of your video on Facebook, but I have no idea whose page it is."

"Mi madre," I reply, my shoulders slumping.

TLT

I knew Sofia would call. The moment mis padres names were on that paper, I knew she knew. And I knew how Dwayne and company knew how to find them. Fucking Connor.

"Matty, oh my god, are you okay?" She says into the phone, her voice on the edge of tears. "That video of you. Oh god, you're gay? You never told me that you're gay."

I just hold the phone to my ear and listen to what she has to say. My heart is racing as though I ran a full lap around the track at la escuela without warming up first.

"Mom and dad saw it. Some account of you, a fake you, it posted the video on Mom's wall. She and Dad are at the lawyer now. When they threw you out, they never took you of the will. Dammit, Matty, say something!"

"I'm not gay." It's all I have. I know who posted it, but I can't prove it. I don't want to prove it. If anyone looks too deep into my family history... I need to talk to Connor. I never told him to keep his mouth shut.

"Matt, there is a video of you blowing some white guy all over Facebook. All your old friends are messaging me to let me know about it." Sofia is clearly speaking through gritted teeth. She did it every time I frustrated her. "It's kinda too late to be in the closet."

"Not what I said," I sigh. "I'm bisexual. "

"Colour me shocked," she says sarcastically. "Matty, why didn't you tell me? Didn't you trust me? After everything I did for you?"

"I do. It's just... We haven't talked since I visited you. That's on me, yeah, but when I was there it just didn't occur to me. Tia, she helped me deal with it. I've been out for ages. I just kinda take for granted that everyone knew."

"Are you going to the cops?" Sofia wastes no time interrupting me. "You have to go to the cops, Matt. You're sixteen. It's child porn. That's a felony or something."

"I'm not," I confess. "I don't want anyone finding out about Tia. And let's face it, there's no way anyone is gonna do time for this. Nobody is gonna be stupid enough to admit that they did it."

"But Matty..." she whines. I forgot how much she used to whine.

"No. No cops. This is hardly the worst thing I've done. We both know that."

"Right. Maria." When Sofia doesn't lecture me about how I shouldn't blame myself for Maria, I know something happened. It has to be about the video.

"Que?" I whisper into the phone.

"Matty, she's seen it. Probably a hundred times because people keep posting it on her wall and saying the most awful things about her and you, but she actually came over today. It's why I called."

I don't hate it when Sofia calls me "Matty". It's endearment. Affection. It's everything it isn't when Dwayne says it to me.

"She visited? Madre y Padre... They let her en la casa?" The thought of Maria in my house for the first time since I left scares me. I ruined her life enough when I lived there. Mis padres didn't hesitate to throw me out and I was their child. What would they do to her? Why didn't I think to see if anyone had sent that damned video to her?

"They did, Matty. It was so weird. Mom and Dad, they talked about you like you were a stranger, but Maria just wanted to know if you were okay. I guess she doesn't hate you after all. It's just... They forgave her. Mom hugged her and said Dad just kinda nodded when Mom said it, but he still agreed."

"And I'm out of the will," I sigh. I want to yell and scream, but Tia is downstairs minding la tienda and the last thing I wanna do is interrupt her with this. "They forgave her, but I'm even more dead to them than before. How is that even possible?"

"I'm not going to defend them to you. It's just... They want to be American so bad but they kept a lot of stuff from Honduras. Like the abortion and gay stuff."

"But I'm their hijo," I say, my voice cracking even though I don't want it to.

"I'm so sorry this is happening to you. I shouldn't have said anything. It's just... This is something you'd want to know, right? Maria and I didn't speak. I didn't say anything the entire time she was here, but she doesn't hate you. Not even after this."

"So I should stop hating myself? Is that what you're trying to say? I have a sex tape all over the internet, Sofia. So that's gonna be a little hard to pull off. But thanks for your concern." As soon as I snap, I want to take it back. I want to apologize to Sofia and beg her to forgive me, but I don't. There are so many things I don't do.

"I'll call you back later. Mom and Dad are back from the grocery store."

After she hangs up, I set my phone down on the counter. I should look at Maria's Facebook, see the things happening to her because of me, but I don't. There's nothing I can do about it that won't make it worse. Because of this stupid tape, I can't even work in the store right now. We tried at first, but stupid kids from school kept coming in and making dirty joke. They scared off the people who actually wanted to buy things.

I look to the window but not out. We still haven't heard from Connor's parents or guardians or whatever and it's weird. One would think that would be the first thing they'd do. Tia hasn't called them because of all the begging I did. It's why she hasn't called the police, either. I would be shocked about the police not coming to the house on their own, but they never come here.

Picking my phone back up, I scroll through my meager contact list. It's bigger than it was a few weeks ago: Sara and Alejandro gave me their numbers, and I still have Ana's even though she probably blocked me. She hasn't tried to contact me once since this mess started. Of course, I haven't called her, either. I haven't sought her out in school. Jordan told me to stay away from her.

But I do have Connor's number. Even after that night, when he told me to stay away from him until I knew what I wanted, even then I kept his number. I don't know why. Maybe I thought I would decide that I actually did want him as something more than a friend. I mean, that night at the party, I did. Because if I didn't, if he meant nothing to me beyond sex, then he really is worse off than I am. I've had this coming for awhile, after all. There's no such thing as a fresh start. Not for people like me.

My thumb hovers over his name. I'm still pissed at him. Because of him, they found mi hermana. They found mi madre and in doing so they ruined a life I had already lost. But he was right. I never tried to see if he was okay. I worried about him, those days I stayed home and avoided everything. He was one big part of the everything I was avoiding. I did abandon him to the wolves.

But he fucked over Maria. Except he didn't tell them about Maria. He didn't show me a picture of Maria. Of all the ways he could have hurt me, he didn't use her. He could have. He knew that Maria would hurt me more than anything else. That has to mean something.

What it doesn't mean is that I want to forgive him. All I want from Connor is to never see him again. He could disappear tomorrow and I wouldn't miss him. Not after today. Not after Maria.

Yet, even with all of that, I need him. The pendejo. I actually need his help. Mi tia is... She sacrificed everything for me already. She can't be outed because of me. Because I know that if it got out that she's trans, she'll probably die. She isn't some white gay guy like Connor who has to deal with being called a faggot. People will find out about her and she'll be murdered and the newspapers will call her a man and say it's her fault and I can't live with that.

I don't want to kill mi tia like I did mi nino. I hit the button.

It rings through. I almost expect it to go to voice mail, but he actually answers. "What do you want, Mateo?" He sounds so tired. I look at the clock to make sure it isn't late. It's not even nine. "I should apologize. You didn't... You don't deserve this. You didn't bail on me. This is happening to you, too. You don't have to forgive me, but I am sorry."

That's... It isn't what I expected, but it's also not why I called.

"You have to convince your aunt and uncle to not go to the cops. Or your parents. I don't care who.," I tell Connor. Right now, I can't even think about his apology. "You owe me that much."

"Why?" Connor asks, infuriating me. He doesn't know. He shouldn't know.

"Because I'm not here legally," I lie. It's the only thing I have without telling the truth. "The cops can't look into this. And if nobody pushes them, they won't. They already don't care because soy moreno, but do you think they'll give a fuck about you when they find out you're Jewish? Don't you know how many cops are active KKK members?"

"Why are you lying, Mateo? I know you're legal. You aunt is legal: she wouldn't have that store if she weren't. You changed your name because of your... history." Connor isn't stupid. I should have known that.

"Can you just do this for me? Please?" I hate hearing myself beg. I hate that I was even stupid enough to put myself in the position where I have to beg. But Tia... She can't go through this. She wanted to go to cops. She didn't care if she was outed: her only concern was me. But I begged her not to go like I'm now begging Connor and it's all my own damn fault. Why do I have to break everything?

"I don't... I'll try, Mateo. For you, I'll try. I really am sorry."

"I know," I reply quietly, my eyes closed. Then I hang up because I know that if I say anything else I'll start crying. I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of everything. I just want to escape, and I know how easy it would be. That frightens me. After all the work I did, after everything I put my familia y Maria through, I can't fall off the wagon. But I want it so bad. Even for a few minutes, I just want to feel like none of the matters.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I lay on the futon and curl into as small a ball as I can.


End file.
